


Friends

by LadyVegeets



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 151,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When new student, Vegeta, turns up at her school, Bulma finds herself befriending him after her love life goes to hell. Her 'perfect' life is about to be shaken by his turbulent past. But what's a girl to do when she falls for the wrong guy? No 'saiyans', 'ki', or magic balls here, but this isn't your average highschoolAU.  Early chapters are mild (teen rated) but mature sexual content will appear in later chapters. (CHAPTERS NOW EDITED TO HAVE FANART, YOOS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Guy (w/ FANARTs)

**Friends - _an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets_**

**Ch.01 - The New Guy**

 

Bulma absentmindedly tapped her pencil on her paper. The teacher was explaining how to solve the equation on the board, the same equation she had already answered in the first five minutes of class. She was in the advanced high school program, but even so the material the teacher gave them barely challenged her. She was a genius after all. She’d spoken with the teacher about it and he’d suggested she start taking college courses next semester, but as it was it was too late to sign up for any now. She’d just have to bare with her course work for the time being and do extra credit assignments in her own time to challenge herself. Bulma sighed. Although her easy classes meant she had a lot of time to socialize and work on her own projects, it also meant classes dragged, and sometimes the temptation to skip and spend the day tinkering in the lab with her father, or go and study in the library sounded far more appealing.

Bulma was brought back from her thoughts by the classroom door opening, and an unfamiliar face entered. The boy wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for with a fierce surly expression. He had spiky hair with a widow’s peak, and an otherwise good looking physique, but his clothing and attitude screamed, ‘I’ll beat you up and take your lunch money’. The principal’s assistant stood behind him. “Mr. Popo? This is the new student we told you about.”

“Ah yes, come in,” the teacher, Mr. Popo bade the new boy. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

The surly-faced boy grunted and complied. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at the class. “I’m Vegeta Saiyan.”

The class waited expectantly until it became obvious that Vegeta wasn’t going to say anything else. The teacher, Mr. Popo, cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, well… Vegeta’s father just moved here for work, I believe,” he explained. Vegeta looked away, as though disinterested. “Why don’t you take a seat there, Mr Saiyan,” the teacher pointed to an empty seat in the front row.

Vegeta slumped into the chair, swinging his bag down under the desk haphazardly. Bulma was sat two rows back from him and one to the left. She was able to watch Vegeta’s back inconspicuously from her spot. He seemed so out of place in the class, surrounded by nerds and goody two shoes. He looked like a thug. Thugs weren’t usually admitted into the advanced program. 

“I was just explaining to the class how to solve this equation,” Mr. Popo kindly told Vegeta, indicating the blackboard. Vegeta cocked his head, looking at the board, and then huffed.

“Tch. Easy.”

Mr. Popo raised a brow. “Indeed? Perhaps you’d care to show us?” he offered a piece of chalk.

Vegeta snorted and stood up, grabbing the chalk and walked up to the board. Bulma watched, curious, as the new boy gave the equation a final once over just to be sure. Then he wrote down his answer confidently and handed the chalk back to the teacher before slumping once more into his chair.

Mr. Popo gave a small smile. “My, my. Very good, Mr. Saiyan. I’m impressed. Miss Briefs, you might have some competition for top of the class next test.”

Bulma’s brows rose above her bangs in shock. She tried to give the teacher a confident smile. It was hard to believe such an unpleasant looking guy could be so smart. She chided herself for judging people based on their appearances. She, more than anyone, should know how that was. Most people didn’t take her seriously either. Bulma decided to attitude adjustment was in order - it was the poor guy’s first day, that was always rough, perhaps his surly attitude was born from nerves. She’d have to try and make his acquaintance later, perhaps he’d make for a good partner during the next group project. It would be nice to have someone able to pull their weight on an assignment for a change. 

The rest of the class was fairly uneventful. The new guy kept quiet, and Bulma soon found herself lost in her own thoughts once more as class failed to hold her attention. 

Finally the bell rang and the class was over. Students hurried to grab their belongings and move into the hall, Bulma among them, wanting to meet her boyfriend. She usually met up with Yamcha in the hall where they could catch up and he could carry her books. Bulma waited, back against the hall wall, as students filed out and moved on to their next class. As she waited she saw the new boy exit the class, scowling and ignoring everyone. He checked a piece of paper in his hand that looked like a schedule, then looked around the hall. His eyes met hers. Bulma gave him a polite smile. Vegeta didn’t return it. 

“Where’s the gym?” he asked her bluntly.

 _Rude_ , she thought. He could have at least said please or introduced himself. Bulma struggled to keep her smile friendly. “Oh, do you have P.E. next? Me too. I could take you there in a minute.”

Vegeta just stared at her, scowling. Bulma could feel her smile crumbling. “That way?” he asked impatiently after a minute, pointing down the hall.

Bulma lost her smile entirely. She nodded. “Yeah.”

Vegeta turned and headed off without so much as a thanks. Bulma glared after him. So much for him acting surly because of being nervous. The boy was just downright rude. 

“Hey, babe!” a familiar cheery voice called out. Bulma turned to see Yamcha jogging towards her, waving his hand and giving her a goofy smile. 

“You’re late,” she replied, holding out her books.

Yamcha grabbed them up with a bashful grin. “Sorry, babe. Had to speak with the teacher.”

“Yamcha! Are you in trouble again?” she asked, exasperated.

Yamcha laughed. “Nah, nothing like that. C’mon, let’s go or we’ll be late for gym.”

They started walking, making a stop at Bulma’s locker to put her books away and grab her gym bag. Bulma got a whiff of an unfamiliar scent as Yamcha stood close to her. “Are you wearing cologne?” she asked him, surprised. He didn’t usually go for that stuff. 

“Oh, uh, no. New deodorant,” he mumbled as he grabbed her things.

Bulma wrinkled her nose. “It smells like perfume.”

Before Yamcha could reply they were interrupted. “Hey guys!” Bulma and Yamcha turned around and saw her friends approach with their gym bags. Goku, Krillin, Tien and Chiaotzu were already in their gym clothes. “We’re going to be late, hurry up!” Krillin chided. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bulma replied, fluffing her hair. “Where’s my girl?”

“Chi-Chi’s already there,” Goku explained.

“What?” Bulma cried. She snatched her bag from Yamcha’s hands and started running towards the changing room. “See you guys there!” she called back as she hurried down the hall. 

She ran into the girl’s changing room and found Chi-Chi already in her PE uniform. Bulma threw down her bag and hastily started to change. “You’re fast.”

“No, you’re slow,” Chi-Chi chided her. “I’m not going to be yelled at because you’re too busy playing handsy with Yamcha.”

Bulma poked her tongue out at Chi-Chi. “That wasn’t what was keeping me. Yamcha was late.”

“Again?” Chi-Chi asked, pausing, giving Bulma a concerned look.

“Yeah, you know him, he’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached,” Bulma laughed as she changed.

Chi-Chi didn’t laugh with her. “He’s been late an awful lot, Bulma. Even for him. He’s usually tripping over himself to be at your side.”

Bulma felt her smile slip, a nagging worry twisting in her stomach. “What are you implying, Chi-Chi?”

Chi-Chi shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just odd.” She hesitated, then added. “He’s not smoking again, is he?”

Bulma froze, her eyes going wide. “Oh my god… I knew I smelt something on him. He said it was deodorant, but I bet he sprayed himself to hide the cigarette smoke. That jerk, we made a pact to quit together!” Bulma fumed, already thinking of ways to punish her boyfriend for reneging on their pact.

Chi-Chi shook her head. “Boys are so weak.”

Bulma slammed her locker closed, and together the two women headed into the gym, Bulma furious and looking for a fight.

* * *

X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X

 

“Dodgeball?!” someone groaned, but was quickly silenced by a glare from the gym teacher, Coach Piccolo. 

The coach went around, assigning everyone a number, one or two. They split into teams either side of the court, and Bulma was pleased to see that she was on the opposite team to Yamcha who she was mad at. With any luck, she could toss a few good throws at him, although she knew the chances of her hitting Yamcha were slim. He was pretty light on his feet. All her male friends were, as they were very athletic and competed at a state level in mixed martial arts. Yamcha might have been the weakest of their group, but he could still run laps around anyone else at the school, herself included. Still, Bulma was nothing if not stubborn and persistent. She was going to hit Yamcha with a dodgeball if it was the last thing she did.

The coach blew his whistle and the game started. The balls flew back and forth, students laughing and yelling, and trying to stay clear of the ball. The court quickly emptied of those students who had been hit. Bulma managed to stay on the court, although she knew why - most of her friends were on the opposite team, and none of them were suicidal enough to aim a ball at her, not until they were forced to if there was no one else left to get.

Suddenly a ball went bouncing by and Bulma hurried to pick it up. Triumphant at her catch, she scanned the opposite team for her boyfriend. Yamcha saw her and smiled, but it quickly died when he saw the look in her eye. Before he could think to escape, Bulma threw the ball at him with all her might. Too alarmed by her betrayal, Yamcha barely dodged out of the way. Bulma huffed, putting an angry hand on her hip. “You could at least have let me hit you!” she called out.

Yamcha gave her a hurt look. “Why?”

Bulma stuck her nose up and walked off. The game continued, more and more students were eliminated. Bulma realized her team was losing, and her athletic friends on the opposite side were starting to eye her as an easy target.

“You do it, Yamcha, she’s your girl,” Tien said, holding out the ball to him.

Yamcha held up his hands, shaking his head. “Are you crazy? That’s exactly why I can’t do it. Goku, you do it, you guys grew up together, she’ll forgive you eventually.”

Goku laughed nervously, taking the ball. He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Bulma!” he called out to her from the other side of the court.

Bulma glared at them, fuming. She hadn’t been able to hit Yamcha all game, and now her friends were trying to decide who would take her out. They didn’t see her as a threat at all and it was infuriating. The worst thing was, she knew they were right.

“Would you stop waffling about already and get on with the game?” someone shouted. Everyone turned and saw the new guy, Vegeta, standing with his arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face. Bulma looked at him, surprised. She hadn’t even noticed that Vegeta was on her team, she’d been too preoccupied with getting vengeance on her boyfriend.  

Goku grinned, eying the new guy with interest. “Yeah, of course. Let me just take care of our friend here,” he said, amiably indicating Bulma.

“Tch,” Vegeta replied, looking away with disinterest. 

“Take care of me?!” Bulma screeched, and Goku winced, regretting his choice of words. Bulma pointed a finger at Goku. “If you throw that ball at me, Goku Son, so help me, I’ll-”

“Sorry Bulma, that’s the game,” Goku protested, and before Bulma could finish her threat, he threw the ball at her.

Startled, Bulma screamed and threw her arms up to protect her face. She never felt the impact of the ball, but she heard it. At the sound of flesh being hit, Bulma opened her eyes and saw a large hand inches from her having safely caught the ball. Vegeta had darted to the side and caught Goku’s throw before it hit her.

The entire gym fell silent. No one had ever caught one of Goku’s throws before. Even Goku looked stunned. The silence was cut by the coach’s whistle.

“Son, you’re out.”

Goku blinked, and then headed off the court. Bulma glanced back at Vegeta, still feeling a little shaken that she’d nearly been hit in the face. “Th-thanks,” she stammered.

He gave her a side long glance. “Move if you don’t want to get hit,” he snapped at her.

Bulma nodded and hurriedly moved out of the way. Vegeta wound up and threw a furious ball at the opposite team, striking Krillin so hard it knocked him down. One by one, Vegeta proceeded to take out the opposition, striking them down with a hard throw or catching one of theirs. Soon all that remained were Vegeta and Bulma on one side, and Yamcha on the other. Both guys had a ball. Bulma was trying to stay out of the way. Yamcha threw straight at Vegeta, but the new boy dodged and threw his own ball. It smacked Yamcha right in the face, and Yamcha fell down with a cry, grabbing his nose. The coach blew the whistle, calling the game over.

“Yamcha!” Bulma cried, and ran over to her boyfriend. Despite having wanted to hit her boyfriend, the sight of him now on the floor clutching his nose didn’t give her any satisfaction. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” She looked around to find the coach for permission to head to the nurse’s, but instead saw Vegeta, still standing on their side of the court.

He was just standing there, staring at them. He didn’t seem pleased by his win, but neither did he seem apologetic about his throw. Everyone else came running over to check on Yamcha and to help take him to the nurse’s office. Bulma saw Vegeta turn away and head to the changing rooms alone, hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. 

 

* * *

X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.

 

“Who was that guy, he seems like a total jerk,” Yamcha groaned as he touched his swollen, bandaged nose.

They were sitting in the nurse’s office. Yamcha was fine, luckily nothing was broken, but the bruise to his ego seemed the worse injury.

“He’s new. ‘Vegeta’. He joined my class today,” Bulma explained, her hands resting in her back pockets.

“Your class?” Krillin asked, his eyes going wide. “So he must be pretty smart?”

Bulma nodded.

“And good at sports,” Goku pointed out, looking a little too excited. Everyone knew Goku was always keen for a new challenge.

“So what? He’s a jerk,” Yamcha pouted. 

“He didn’t seem terribly friendly,” Tien agreed. “He didn’t even apologize. Did you talk to him?” he asked Bulma.

Bulma shrugged. “Not much. He’s kind of rude if you ask me,” she said, her voice soft. The image of Vegeta’s outstretched hand clutching the dodgeball in front of her was imprinted in her mind. She couldn’t decide if Vegeta had saved her, or simply seen an opportunity to catch Goku out. 

“See? If my Bulma says he’s rude, then he’s a total jerk,” Yamcha declared, grabbing Bulma around the waist and tugging her in. Bulma let him, her previous anger at her boyfriend gone. They could talk about him smoking again later. “He looks like a punk too.”

Krillin snorted. “Like you can talk.”

Yamcha spluttered. “Hey! I’m like, a good punk. He’s clearly a bad punk. Total bully type I bet. Grade A asshole.”

“You watch your mouth, Mr. Rekishiyoma,” the nurse snapped as she re-entered the room. She gave Yamcha the okay to leave, and their group headed out to go get lunch.

They spent lunch together in the cafeteria, talking and eating. No one saw Vegeta, and rumors of the new guy started spreading no thanks to Yamcha loudly bad mouthing him and exaggerating the events of the dodgeball game. By the time the home bell rang that afternoon, Vegeta had gained a bad reputation. As Bulma overheard two girls talking about Vegeta beating people up in gym, she couldn’t help feeling a little responsible. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to call Vegeta rude without getting to know him better first. 

She was on her way out of school when she saw Vegeta with his bag over his shoulder, heading towards the gym. Irrationally, Bulma was overcome with the urge to say something to him. “Hey, Vegeta.”

He stopped and glanced at her, his eyes dark and unfriendly.

Bulma swallowed but pushed on. “How was your first day?”

“What’s it to you?”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open, stunned by his rudeness. She struggled with her temper, trying to remain civil. “In gym today, I just-”

“Whatever.” Vegeta turned away and continued walking.

Bulma clenched her fists, indignant. What a dick Vegeta was! Any sympathy or guilt she was feeling for him she quickly threw aside. Bulma turned around and stomped outside to meet her friends, deciding to the put the new guy far from her mind and ignore him as much as he clearly wanted to ignore everyone else.

Which was easier said than done, because the next day Vegeta was all anyone could talk about.

“Babe, babe!” Yamcha called to her excitedly. “Did you hear about Vegeta and Nappa? Apparently they got into a fight yesterday after school and that jerk, Vegeta, destroyed him! They had to send Nappa to the emergency room!”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open, and she had to snap it closed. “No way, you can’t be serious. Vegeta beat up a senior? And Nappa? He’s twice Vegeta’s size!”

“I know, it’s incredible, right? See, didn’t I tell everyone he was a jerk?” Yamcha gloated.

Bulma frowned. “Well it’s not like we much cared for Nappa,” she pointed out. The large senior wasn’t terribly popular on account of his massive ego, and his tendency to boss and bully others around. 

“That’s not the point, babe,” Yamcha sighed. “If Vegeta could beat up someone like that, he must be twice as bad as Nappa.”

Bulma wanted to argue her boyfriend’s logic, but she didn’t exactly feel like jumping to Vegeta’s defense after how rude he’d been, and the bell for class was ringing, meaning she had to hurry to class. 

Vegeta was already sitting in his chair when she entered. As she walked past, Bulma tried to see if he had any injuries from a fight, but it was hard to tell. Vegeta was covered neck to toe in dark, baggy clothes, and he had his hands shoved in his pockets so she couldn’t get a look at his knuckles. Unable to confirm Yamcha’s wild story, Bulma sat down and focused on class, finishing all her work within minutes. 

When class ended she headed out as usual to meet Yamcha, and once again her boyfriend was a no show. Scowling with irritation, Bulma went to Yamcha’s class and asked one of classmates where he was. “He left before the end of class to use the bathroom. Maybe he’s still there,” the student told her.

Fuming, knowing that Yamcha had probably gone to sneak a cigarette, she marched her way over to the boy’s toilets. Without caring about propriety, Bulma slammed the door open and marched inside. A couple guys started yelling at her but seeing her expression they quickly fled. She ignored them and went to the only occupied stall.

“Yamcha, if you’re smoking a cigarette without me, so help me, I will murder you in your sleep!” she yelled and shoved the door, not expecting it to open, but it did.

The girl on her knees between Yamcha’s legs must have forgotten to lock the stall door.

Bulma stood there, staring, stunned. She couldn’t process what she was seeing. 

“Launch?” she whispered, the world dropping out from beneath her.

The pretty girl wiped at her lipstick and kept her eyes lowered. “Sorry Bulma.”

Bulma’s eyes rose to see the face of her boyfriend. He was sat on the toilet, looking flustered as he struggled to put himself back in his pants. He was sputtering her name, and apologies, and a whole lot of other words but Bulma wasn’t really listening to. It was like she was watching this happen to someone else. When Yamcha finally stood up to better try and fix himself and make excuses, Bulma turned on her heel and fled.

She crashed into someone as she hurried to exit the bathroom. She looked up into Vegeta’s face. For the first time since she’d met him she saw Vegeta express a new emotion - bewilderment. He checked the bathroom door to be certain it was the men’s, and then his eyes flickered down to her cheeks. Horrified, Bulma raised a hand and touched her face to find it wet with tears. Vegeta looked past her and saw Yamcha stumbling towards them, still fixing his fly, Launch behind him adjusting her short skirt. Vegeta scowled, but Bulma hardly noticed. She pushed past Vegeta and fled down the hall, wanting to get as far away from the bathroom and Yamcha as she could, ignoring her boyfriend as he called after her.

 

* * *

X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.

* * *

**AN:**

.... Art by [nelicquele79](http://nelicquele79.tumblr.com/post/149775440194/fanfic-fanart-friends-by-ladyvegeets/embed)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/nelicquele79_Vegeta_zpstq2s9pp8.png.html)

 

...Fanart by  **[clintashastarblade](https://clintashastarblade.tumblr.com/post/158879986541/finally-finished-the-fan-art-for-chapter-one-of?is_highlighted_post=1) :**

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/clintashastarblade_Friends_zpsgax2hx0q.jpg.html)

_**Disclaimer** : Obviously I don’t own DBZ characters - they belong to Akira Toriyama, Funimation and Toei Animation as far as I know. _


	2. 02 - One Punch Man (w FANARTs)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.02 - One Punch Man**

  

Bulma didn’t know how long she’d been sobbing on the roof, but it must have been a while because she was starting to feel hungry. She contemplated going down to get lunch, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. By now the whole school probably knew that Yamcha had been getting head from another girl, and that Bulma had walked in on it. Bulma was so humiliated, and more than that, heartbroken. She knew she and Yamcha didn’t always have a perfect relationship, and maybe it didn’t have ‘forever’ written all over it, but that didn’t make his betrayal any less painful. If they were going to break up, she hadn’t wanted it to be like this. And she certainly hadn’t wanted to see it.

Bulma wiped her eyes even as she felt more tears well up, the memory of Launch between Yamcha’s legs haunting her, burnt in her mind’s eye. Bulma lowered her head to her knees once more and let the tears fall. She loved Yamcha and more than that, he was her friend. That he could have done this to her broke her up more deeply than she could have imagined.

A short while later the lunch bell rang. Bulma heard someone open the rooftop door. She didn’t dare look up, not wanting company or to be seen crying. She waited, and after a short pause the door closed. Bulma peeked, looking around, but she didn’t see anyone. _Good_ , she thought, _they left_. Bulma sank her head to her knees and continued to nurse her heartache.

A few minutes later the door once again opened. This time Chi-Chi came barging through it, looked around, and upon spotting Bulma came running over to her. “Oh Bulma, oh my god, are you okay? Everyone’s been so worried!” 

Bulma allowed her friend to embrace her and Bulma cried all over again, sobbing against Chi-Chi’s shoulder as she relayed the whole horrible story of Yamcha’s betrayal to her friend. She quickly cried herself out, already having exhausted most of her tears, and let Chi-Chi pet her hair.

“Oh sweety, aren’t men just the worst?” Chi Chi tried to sympathize with her. “I knew that Yamcha was up to something but I had no idea it was something like this… You’ll be happy to know he’s really distraught. He’s been looking everywhere for you to apologise.”

“Everywhere, yeah right,” Bulma scoffed. “He hasn’t been here. And besides, I don’t want to see his stupid ugly face anyway. I don’t want to see his stupid ugly face ever again!” she screamed.

Chi-Chi nodded and petted Bulma’s hair. “Well, that might be difficult since we go to the same school and club, but we’ll try and keep the contact to a minimum.” 

Bulma sighed, knowing she’d have to face Yamcha eventually, but she wasn’t ready that just yet. She let Chi-Chi soothe her for a while longer until her stomach audibly growled. Bulma huffed, embarrassed. “All this crying is making me hungry.”

“I’ll get us lunch,” Chi-Chi said and stood up. 

Bulma nodded her thanks, wiping her eyes. “Hey, Chi-Chi?”

“Mm?”

“How did you find me if Yamcha couldn’t?”

Chi-Chi looked up, tapping her chin. “Oh, actually, it was that new guy, Vegeta.”

“Vegeta?” Bulma asked, surprised.

Chi-Chi nodded. “Yes. He came up to me and without so much as a hello, asked if I was on good terms with ‘that blue-haired girl’. When I said I was, he told me you were up here.” Chi-Chi gave Bulma a curious look. “How did he know that? Was he here too?”

Bulma remembered hearing the roof door open earlier. It must have been Vegeta, and upon seeing her crying, had fetched help. “I suppose he must have,” Bulma said, stunned that the surly boy had bothered to fetch Chi-Chi on her behalf. Vegeta didn’t seem the type to care.

“Well I’m glad he did,” Chi-Chi said with a smile. “Now you stay right there and I’ll be back with lunch in a hurry.” Bulma gave her friend a wet smile and watched as Chi-Chi hurried off.

 

* * *

X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_

* * *

 

Bulma stayed home the next two days, unable to face the whispers at school or the thought of seeing Yamcha’s face. Chi-Chi visited her after school the first day and caught her up on what was going on. The second day Bulma received an unexpected caller.

The doorbell rang. Thinking it was Chi Chi, Bulma opened the door without a second thought. Only it wasn’t Chi-Chi. Vegeta was standing there, looking uncomfortable and put out. As soon as she opened the door he thrust a few pieces of paper at her. “Here,” he said. “The teacher made me bring this to you. This is what you missed and the rest of the week’s homework too.”

“Oh,” Bulma said, bewildered, and tooks the papers from him. Her eyes flicked to his hand and saw that Vegeta’s knuckles were swollen and bruised. So he _had_ been fighting. Had he really beaten up _Nappa_? 

Vegeta shoved his hand in his pocket and glared at her. Bulma stared back at him, unsure what to say. She was a little surprised Vegeta hadn’t stomped away by now. “Um… Thanks.”

Vegeta scowled harder. “You should come back to school already so I don’t have to play messenger boy, or get one of your annoying friends to deliver your work.”

Bulma was dumbfounded. She nodded. “Right, sorry. I’ll do that.”

“Which one?” He huffed.

Bulma blinked. “What?”

Vegeta’s brow furrowed further. “ _Which one_? Are you going to come back to school, or are you going to have your friends deliver your assignments?”

Bulma couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. Why did he find it so important to know her choice? “Well, um, I don’t know… I need to think about it.”

Vegeta continued to glare at her, staring at her intently as if he could read her thoughts if he glared at her hard enough. Then he shook his head and looked away. “Everyone says you’re pretty smart, but I don’t see it at all.”

Bulma felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. She felt color rise to her cheeks and was about to give Vegeta a piece of her mind when movement on the pavement caught her eye. All the color in her face instantly drained, and she took a step back inside the doorway.

Vegeta, seeing her reaction, turned and saw Yamcha approach, flowers in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other. Yamcha wore the guilty expression of a misbehaving puppy. He’d even put some gel in his hair to try and look more presentable for his apology.

“Oh _please_ ,” Vegeta drawled snidely, sneering as Yamcha approached.

Yamcha glared at him, looking him over. “What are you doing here?” Yamcha asked Vegeta, narrowing his eyes at the new guy.

“Delivering homework,” Vegeta replied nonchalantly. “No thanks to you.”

“What?” Yamcha snapped back.

Vegeta glared at Yamcha with disdain. “Well the way I hear it, if you’d kept it in your pants, she wouldn’t be home crying over you, which means I wouldn’t be here handing over homework. So the next time you decide to be unfaithful, maybe _think_ about how it’s going to inconvenience others, won’t you?”

Yamcha blushed furiously. Bulma felt her mouth fall open in shock. Neither of them could believe Vegeta’s gall. Yamcha threw the flowers and chocolates down on the ground, and raised his fists. “You’ve some nerve, _new guy_ ,” Yamcha hissed at Vegeta furiously.

Vegeta sneered, unthreatened. “Me? I’m not the one who thinks some cheap gas station gifts will make up for getting my dick sucked by the school slut.”

Yamcha gritted his teeth, livid. He took a swing at Vegeta, but Vegeta easily dodged it. Yamcha swung again, and Vegeta caught it with one hand, smirking. 

“Stop it!” Bulma cried out, finally finding her voice. They both lowered their hands. Yamcha gave her a guilty look, Vegeta an indifferent one.

“Get out of here,” Bulma hissed at Vegeta. He was only making things worse by being there, and his rude and cocky attitude was pissing her off, even if what he was saying was true. And seeing Yamcha acting like such a fool was only making her angry, and she needed someone to vent that on.

Vegeta met her eyes, unflinching at her anger or the fresh tears that were running down her cheeks. He finally huffed and turned around. “You look terrible by the way,” he said in parting, and sauntered off. Bulma glared after him, her hand fisted around the homework he’d delivered. When he was gone, she turned her furious gaze onto Yamcha.

“Babe, oh Bulma, I’m so, so sor-” he started.

“You too, Yamcha.” She interrupted him curtly.

“What?”

Bulma glared at Yamcha, although with less heat than she had glared at Vegeta. Pain wrung her heart like a vice. She couldn’t see Yamcha without imagining Launch’s swollen lips. “Get out of here now, Yamcha. I can’t even look at you.”

“Bulma, please, let me just-”

Bulma spun about and slammed the door shut, locking it on Yamcha’s miserable face. She put her own face in her hand and waited until she heard Yamcha collect his rejected gifts and leave before allowing herself to cry. 

 

* * *

X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_

* * *

 

“Yamcha and Vegeta fought today,” Chi-Chi told her breathlessly the next day.

“What?!” Bulma asked, unable to believe her friend. 

Chi-Chi nodded adamantly. “It’s true, half the school was there. Yamcha totally called Vegeta out and wouldn’t let him go until they had it out.”

“Oh my god, that idiot,” Bulma said, stunned beyond belief by Yamcha’s actions. “What happened?”

Chi-Chi spread her hands. “Well, it could have been worse. Yamcha tried hitting Vegeta but Vegeta was pretty good. I mean, you know I hate to say this about my guy but, he might even be better than Goku. Vegeta smacked Yamcha in the gut and your ex went down with just one punch.”

“My _ex_ ,” Bulma repeated numbly. She hadn’t thought of Yamcha like that. Is that what he was to her now, her ex? It sounded so final, and cold.

Chi-Chi continued, oblivious. “That’s when Coach came out and pulled the two guys into his office. Yamcha went to the nurse’s office for the rest of the day and Vegeta was sent home. Rumor is they’re both suspended but neither will talk. Well, Yamcha won’t talk, no one bothered to ask Vegeta. Everyone’s terrified of him.”

Bulma’s mind was reeling. She wished she’d seen the fight. Yamcha wasn’t a rookie. If someone could take him out in just one punch, they had to be pretty skilled, and pretty strong. “Why would he do that, attack Vegeta?”

Chi Chi gave Bulma a strange look. “Well, you should know, shouldn’t you? Yamcha was going on about protecting your honor and that Vegeta should stay away from you.”

Bulma groaned, smacking a hand over her face. “That _idiot_. Vegeta only delivered my homework.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I”m going to have to talk to him about us, aren’t I?”

Chi-Chi gave her friend a sympathetic smile. “You both need closure, one way or the other. Otherwise Yamcha’s just going to keep doing stupid things,” she agreed. 

Bulma shook her head, torn. “What do I do, Chi-Chi? I still love him. I think.”

Chi-Chi gave her friend a piercing look. “Can you forgive him?”

Bulma thought about it, hard. “I.. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Can you trust him?”

The image of Launch nestled between Yamcha’s legs flashed again in Bulma’s mind. She recalled the smell of the blonde’s perfume on Yamcha, and all the times he had been late recently. This hadn’t been a one time fling. How long had Yamcha been cheating on her with Launch? And was she even the only one he’d been fooling around with? Bulma lowered her eyes, and shook her head. She couldn’t trust Yamcha again after this, not as a lover.

Chi-Chi patted her shoulder. “Well dear, I think you know what you need to do.”

 

* * *

X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_

* * *

 

Breaking up with Yamcha was one of the most miserable experiences of her life. They both cried, a lot. Yamcha was convincing in his sincerity and apologies, and Bulma was half-tempted to give in and give it one more chance, but all she had to do was remember that scene in the bathroom and her resolve strengthened. Besides, their relationship hadn’t been perfect even excluding Yamcha’s infidelities. His cheating was simply the final nail in the coffin. 

It was late when their conversation ended. Bulma headed home as the last rays of daylight bled from the sky, the shadows long on the pavement, the air cool. She took the long way home to give herself time to unwind and process the break up. The route took her past a park. 

Bulma was stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and someone cry out. She froze, alarmed, familiar with the sound of someone getting beaten up. She’d heard it a thousand times before when her friends practiced fighting. Worried, Bulma grabbed her cell phone from her bag and peered through the trees to get a better look at what was happening.

Sure enough, across the park she saw a group of guys kicking something on the ground that was moving weakly. Bulma punched in 911 and dialed. Then, mustering up as much strength as she could she shouted, “I’M CALLING THE POLICE RIGHT NOW!” 

The group of guys glanced up, muttered a few words, and then moved off, some of them limping, one holding their arm as if it pained them. Bulma ran over to check on what the boys had been attacking, her phone to her ear as she gave details to the police as she went. “Oh my god, it’s a person,” she reported as she got close enough. There was no response from the emergency operator. “Hello?” Bulma asked, checking her phone. The signal had cut out. Bulma swore, hoping the emergency responder had received enough information to send help their way. She shoved her phone away and hurried over to the attacked victim on the ground.

“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to touch their shoulder.

A hand lashed out and shoved her away. “I didn’t need your help!” a gruff but familiar voice replied.

Knocked down on her butt, Bulma looked up in surprise. “Vegeta?”

Vegeta painfully turned around, pushing himself up on trembling arms. He gave her a dark look, his face dirty and cut up. He spat blood on the ground to clear his mouth, then wiped his lips on his sleeve. “ _You_ , huh,” he croaked. “I can’t seem to get away from you lately.”

Bulma couldn’t help agreeing. She looked him over, appalled at the extent of damage Vegeta had sustained. He was badly beaten, although he was clearly trying to not let it show. “Let me help you up,” she offered.

Vegeta sneered at her. “I’m fine, you can go now.”

Bulma shook her head. “I can’t, I called the police. I should wait until they show.”

“Shit,” Vegeta swore, and stumbled to his feet. “Then I have to go.”

“Vegeta,” Bulma protested, and she stood up after him. “You’re seriously hurt! You should go to the hospital. What if there’s internal damage? And who were those guys?”

“All of that, is none of your fucking business,” Vegeta snapped back at her. 

Bulma had had enough of the male ego for one week. She’d had to deal with Yamcha’s fragile ego all during their break up, so she was in no mood to put up with Vegeta’s prideful one. Bulma pressed her fists to her hips and glared at Vegeta vehemently. “It IS my _fucking_ business, I’m _making_ it my fucking business. You got the _fuck_ beat out of you, and I witnessed it, so I’m obliged to _fucking_ report it. So sit your fucking ass down and shut the fuck up and… _fuck you_ very much!”

Vegeta blinked at her in surprise. Then he laughed, softly at first, then louder and harder. He grabbed his side, wincing in pain, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound, but Bulma wasn’t in the mood to be laughed at. 

“I’m serious,” she pouted.

“I can tell,” he replied, smirking. The park lit up as emergency vehicles sped towards them. Vegeta’s smile faded, and he sighed. “Guess I’ve got no choice.”

“No,” Bulma said, raising her head triumphantly.

She stayed with him as the first responders looked him over and the police questioned him. Vegeta claimed not to know the guys who attacked him, and his description of the boys was vague at best. Sadly Bulma wasn’t much help either, having only seen the attackers at a distance and from the shadows. She rode with Vegeta to the hospital and stayed as they took x-rays and looked him over.

The doctor left the room to check the results, and Bulma and Vegeta were alone. Vegeta stared up at the ceiling. “Why are you still here?”

“Why isn’t your family here?” Bulma responded. He was beat up, shouldn’t a parent or older sibling be there for him?

Vegeta didn’t reply. Bulma decided not to push the issue, and Vegeta didn’t question her presence again.

The doctor came back shortly with Vegeta’s x-rays. “Well, other than the bruises and sprained ankle, looks like you’ve got a broken a rib, bucko,” the doctor said, pointing to the x-ray. He then gave Vegeta a stern look, and pointed to another rib, then another. “Not your first, it would seem.”

Vegeta returned the doctor’s look with a neutral expression. “I practice martial arts.”

The doctor made a skeptical sound. “Hmm. Perhaps it’s time to find a new hobby.” He wrote something on his notes and let the matter drop. He gave Vegeta a run down of his current injuries and how to treat them, as well as some prescriptions for pain medication. “I just have to finalize some things with your insurance and then you’ll be free to go,” the doctor finished, and once again he left Vegeta and Bulma alone in the room.

Bulma stared at Vegeta’s x-ray, seeing the new break as well as the signs of previous ones that had healed over time. She wondered if x-rays of Vegeta’s other bones would show similar signs of abuse. The injuries reminded her that Vegeta had taken out Yamcha in one hit, and apparently Nappa too. Even the boys who had been attacking Vegeta in the park hadn’t left unscathed. She’d seen the hobble away. Despite superiority of numbers, Vegeta had still held his own. Was Vegeta really that good?

“Did you really take out Yamcha with one punch?” she asked, still looking at Vegeta’s x-ray.

In her peripheral vision she saw Vegeta glance at her. “…Your boyfriend started it.”

“Ex,” she corrected him, looking down at her hands.

Vegeta was quiet for a moment. Then he shifted. “Guess you’re not so dumb after all.”

Bulma flashed him a glare. Vegeta looked away. Pissed at how rude and insensitive Vegeta could be, Bulma went back to glaring at his x-rays. That’s when she saw the label on the bottom. “What’s the ‘P’ stand for?” she asked.

Vegeta looked over at her, frowning. “What?”

Bulma pointed. “Your name. ‘Vegeta P. Saiyan’. What’s the ‘P’ for?”

Vegeta’s head snapped to the side to see the label on his x-ray. He clenched his jaw, and Bulma was sure she saw him blush. He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?”

Vegeta sighed and gave her an aggravated look. “It stands for ‘Prince’, alright? And if you tell anyone you’ll live to regret it.”

Bulma pressed her lips together and tried not to make a sound. When Vegeta scowled at her, she lost her composer and laughed, trying unsuccessfully to smother it behind a hand.

“Oh yeah, ha ha, it’s very funny,” Vegeta drawled at her. “Like you can laugh at someone’s name, Miss _Panties_.”

Bulma snorted. “It’s ‘Briefs’, you dumbass.”

“Really?” Vegeta drawled and gave her a very obvious once over with his eyes, his gaze lingering low. “Didn’t think you were the ‘brief’ type.”

Bulma felt her face heat up. She lunged at him, raising a fist.

Vegeta caught her punch effortlessly. Her hand was tiny compared to his, and though his fingers gripped her wrist tightly, he didn’t hurt her. His skin was warm and pleasantly rough against her own.

For a heartbeat they stared at each other as Vegeta held her fist. Then Bulma snatched her hand away as if she’d been burnt, and Vegeta let her go. They sat in silence, not looking at each other, until the doctor returned.

When he did he told Vegeta that Mr. Saiyan had been contacted and that everything had been taken care of. Bulma didn’t miss the wince Vegeta made at the mention of his father. 

The exited the hospital together. Bulma pulled out her mobile.

“What are you doing?” Vegeta asked her in a surly tone, limping beside her.

“Calling a cab.”

“That’s a stupid waste of money,” Vegeta grouched.

Bulma sighed. “It’s not an issue.”

Vegeta sneered. “Fine, whatever. You take your cab, I’m walking home.” He held out his hand to take his bag that Bulma had been looking after ever since the park.

Bulma hugged the bag tighter, refusing to hand it over. “Don’t be an idiot, you’ve got a sprained ankle.”

“Whatever,” Vegeta said, and started hobbling off. 

Bulma rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back into her purse, hurrying after Vegeta. They walked in silence for a while, Bulma following Vegeta’s lead to head back to his place. She had no idea how to break the silence. Vegeta was so ornery. If he didn’t snap at whatever she was saying, he was insulting her. It was hard to carry on a conversation with someone like that. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Vegeta spoke. “Why do you dye your hair that color?”

Bulma reached up and fingered her blue hair. “I don’t.”

Vegeta scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“No, really,” Bulma insisted. She ran a hand through her hair until she found a loose strand. She offered it to Vegeta. “See, blue root and all.”

Vegeta took the hair and squinted at it. “It’s too dark,” he said, unable to clearly make out the tiny strand’s color in the evening light.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me then,” Bulma said, primping her hair.

Vegeta gave her a curious look. Finally, his gaze lowered. “Your arm hair isn’t blue.”

Bulma rubbed her arm self consciously. “It is, it’s just very pale, almost blonde… and it’s not polite to comment on a lady’s arm hair, I’ll have you know.”

“It’s not?”

It was Bulma’s turn to shoot Vegeta a hard look. Was he being serious, or sarcastic? It was hard to tell with him, but it suddenly occurred to her that maybe he was being genuine. Did Vegeta just not know what was socially acceptable? Had no one ever taught him? 

“So I guess it’s not polite to ask if the rug matches the curtains?” Vegeta asked her with a sparkle in his eye.

Bulma stopped walking, her face going bright red, her hands fisting at her sides. “NO, IT’S ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY, YOU PERVE!”

Vegeta smirked. It was the closest to a smile she’d seen him make yet, not counting his delirious laughter in the park. His amusement stunned her, and her anger deflated. She couldn’t help noticing that he was quite attractive when smiling. Bulma mumbled a few choice words under her breath at Vegeta, then continued walking down the street with him.

The rest of the walk was fairly quiet, but not entirely uncomfortable. Vegeta stopped walking and looked up. Bulma followed his gaze and was surprised when she saw they were standing in front of her home. “What, but…?” When did that happen, she hadn’t even been paying attention to their surroundings. They were supposed to going to Vegeta’s home.

“I live nearby,” Vegeta said, not meeting her eyes. He held out his hand for his bag.

Bulma was reluctant to hand it over. She’d meant to walk him back to make sure he was okay, but instead he had managed to walk her home. “If you’re close, let’s keep going.”

Vegeta reached out and snatched his bag from her grip. “No. I don’t need you knowing where I live.”

Bulma huffed. “You know where I live!”

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder. “That’s your own stupid fault for not coming to school.” Before Bulma could reply, Vegeta pointed a finger at her face. “And stay out of my face from now on, Briefs. I don’t owe you anything for today, you got that? I didn’t need your damn help, nor do I want it.” And with that, Vegeta turned and started limping off down the street.

Bulma watched him go, her jaw clenching, fuming. She stormed inside her house and slammed the front door closed, followed by her bedroom door. Men were so infuriating! She tossed all her pillows onto the floor and threw herself onto her bed. She wanted to cry over her break up with Yamcha, but her thoughts kept drifting back towards a ill tempered, spiky haired boy. Bulma finally pushed all thoughts of boys out of her mind, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

* * *

X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_X_x_

* * *

 

........ Art by [Rut Bisbe](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com/)

 

 

.... Art by [SharkShark/ GalacticShark17](https://twitter.com/GalacticShark17)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/Shark_SharkFinishedCtWCLR9UkAA0E10_zpsqdqppjcm.png.html)

 

 **AN:** _I love surly Vegeta so much. XD_

_I hope you're enjoying this fic so far. I really adore hearing feedback, both constructive and positive. It's always nice to know people are reading and enjoying! And not gonna lie, reviews are extremely motivating too. I'm basically a Yamcha-slut for comments, lol, how low I've sunk! ;P_

 


	3. 3 - Midnight Meeting

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.03 - Midnight Meeting**

 

When Bulma returned to school the next day, no one had heard about her and Vegeta’s visit to the hospital, but everyone had heard about her break up with Yamcha. All her friends were ready with their condolences. Yamcha didn’t come to school, still upset over the whole ordeal, and he wasn’t the only absentee. In her advanced skills class, Bulma noticed Vegeta’s desk was empty too. It only fueled the rumors that Vegeta had been suspended for fighting Yamcha, but Bulma guessed Vegeta was staying home because of his injuries from the park. 

At the end of class Bulma could see Mr. Popo eyeing Vegeta’s empty desk, a homework packet on his desk. Before he could assign the task to anyone else, Bulma approached him. “Sir, do you need me to deliver that to Vegeta?” 

Mr. Popo’s eyes widened. “Why yes, that would be much appreciated, Miss Briefs. Returning the favor? He delivered your homework to you earlier this week, as I recall.”

Bulma smiled and nodded. She had to hide a victorious smile as Mr Popo handed over Vegeta’s homework packet. She was going to learn where Vegeta lived! The look on his face would be priceless. Ha! That would teach him for telling her that she couldn’t know where he lived when he knew her address. And if she was being honest with herself, Bulma  was also a little bit worried about how Vegeta was recovering. She was accustomed to seeing her friends injured from MMA practice, but they’d never been hurt to the same extent she had seen Vegeta the night before. Even though he was a surly jerk, she was worried about him and wanted to make sure he was okay. She tried to tell herself she was only concerned because she had found him, and that made her responsible for his wellbeing.

Bulma followed Mr Popo to get Vegeta’s file, and she waited as he wrote down Vegeta’s address on a post-it note. Bulma kept the paper close the rest of the day. She was pleased as punch with herself for finding a way to get Vegeta’s address, not only to rub it in the boy’s face, but also because it was successfully taking her mind off her break up. That’s all anyone wanted to talk to her about. Lunch was especially awkward. All her friends were trying too hard to be extra cheery and talk about topics that wouldn’t remind her of Yamcha. It was sweet of them, but the unnaturalness of their banter only reminded her of her break up all the more, and Bulma hoped her friends would stop their act soon or she was going to have to hit them.

The last bell finally rang and Bulma said her goodbyes and hurried off to suss out Vegeta’s house. She looked up the address on her phone. “Sonovabitch,” she swore to herself. It was no where near her house. Vegeta had lied about her place being on the way to his. But why? Had he walked her back to her house to keep her from learning his address, or had he wanted to walk her safely home, despite his injuries? Were Vegeta’s actions born from being an asshole, or from misunderstood good intentions?

Confused and irritated at Vegeta’s enigmatic ways, Bulma double timed it over to his address. As she went the neighborhoods became less and less desirable, lawns unkempt, old broken down cars left abandoned in driveways and yards, boarded up windows and graffiti decorating many of the streets. Bulma gripped the strap of her backpack a little tighter and made sure her cell phone was ready in case she needed to call for help. She was starting to regret volunteering to bring Vegeta his homework.

Thankfully Vegeta’s house was the biggest and nicest looking one on his street. Bulma bolstered her courage and marched up to the front door and knocked firmly. After a minute she heard a lock turning and then the door swung open.

“Yes?” a tall, good looking man greeted her, his hair long and swept to the side in a ponytail. He was wearing earrings, one in each ear, unusual for a man. He looked at Bulma with polite disinterest.

Bulma hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself. “Um, is this… Is Vegeta here?”

The man’s expression instantly changed. His eyes flashed with interest, and he smiled, amused. “Vegeta? Yes. And who might you be?” He looked her over, from head to toe, his smile curling wider, darker. Bulma resisted the urge to step back.

She wet her lips nervously. “I’m Bulma. I’m a friend from school. I’m supposed to-”

“Vegeta!” the tall man cut her off, calling over his shoulder into the house. “Your _girlfriend_ is here!” He looked back at her with a wicked glint in his eye.

Bulma blushed. Before she could deny the accusation she heard movement from within the house. Vegeta stomped over, grumbling something until he caught sight of Bulma. His reaction was instantaneous. Vegeta was beside himself with shock. He looked absolutely appalled to see her there. 

Bulma had hoped Vegeta would be surprised to see her, but she hadn’t expected him to look _dismayed_. Bulma suddenly felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right. Vegeta didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be easily upset, so if he was upset then there was probably something worthwhile to be upset about. And _boy_ did he look upset now.

Vegeta flashed the tall man at the door a frantic look, then glanced back at Bulma, his shocked expression quickly turning into a furious glare. “ _What the hell do you want?_ ”

Bulma wasn’t prepared for such vehemence. Unsure what was going on, she held out Vegeta’s work packet uncertainly. “Um, the teacher asked me to-”

“Fine.” Vegeta snatched the homework from her hand and then slammed the door in her face. She heard raised voices from behind the door, growing fainter as the two boys moved deeper into the house. Bulma stared at the front door for a long while, trying to puzzle out what had just happened.

Finally, at a loss, Bulma turned around and meekly headed home.

 

* * *

 

~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~

 

Bulma was in her bedroom brushing her hair in front of her vanity when she heard a soft _tink_ against her window. She ignored it at first, thinking nothing of the sound. Then it came again. _Tink_. And again. _Tink, tink_. Curious, she got up and went to the window, opening it and looking out. Her mouth dropped at who she saw.

Vegeta was standing in her backyard, the fiercest scowl she’d seen yet on his face. 

“Vegeta?!” Bulma whispered.

“I’m coming up,” he told her.

“Like hell you are!” she whispered back, but he ignored her and started climbing up her house to her window. He made it look easy. Bulma tried not to be impressed. 

Vegeta swung smoothly into her room and shut the window behind him. She saw that he was sporting a black eye. He hadn’t had that earlier. It seemed all Vegeta was capable of was fighting. He was also rubbing his ribs as he looked around her room. He spotted the bedroom door. “Are your folks asleep?” he asked.

“What the hell are you doing here, Vegeta?” Bulma demanded, ignoring his question. Her parents’ room was on the other side of their very large house. There was no way they’d hear her or Vegeta, but she wasn’t about to tell Vegeta that, not until she knew why he’d forced his way into her room.

“What the hell am _I_ doing?” Vegeta repeated, his attention swinging full force onto her, sounding furious. “What the hell were _you_ doing today, coming to my house? I told you to stay away!” he shouted at her.

Bulma balked at his anger, but only for a moment. There was a reason many students had a healthy fear of Bulma Briefs, and it wasn’t just for her good looks, or smarts, or wealth. Bulma could argue with the best of them and then some. She gathered her anger, and boy did she have a lot after everything she’d been through this week. 

“You don’t _get_ to tell me what to do, Mister!” She snapped back at him. “You told me I didn’t need to know where you lived, but I _did_ in order to give you your homework. Like you said to me, it’s your own stupid fault for not coming to school. You have _some_ _nerve_ telling me what’s appropriate when _you’re_ the one sneaking into my room so late at night. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“I thought you were a smart one!” Vegeta shouted back, undaunted by her anger. That was new for Bulma; most men cringed at her tirades, but Vegeta seemed unaffected. “Do you have any idea how stupid what you did today was?”

Bulma grit her teeth. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. Fancy that! Perhaps if some stubborn-headed asshole would actually _tell me_ what was going on instead of just insulting me, I might actually know.”

Vegeta opened his mouth to reply, then stopped himself. He closed his mouth, glaring at her, thinking over her words. Seconds ticked by, and Bulma watched him struggle with himself. Finally Vegeta took a deep breath and let it out, and when he spoke his tone was calmer, if still strained.

“That guy today who answered the door. That’s Zarbon.” Vegeta looked away from her as he explained, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “He’s a relative, and his favorite past time is tormenting me. He’ll do anything to achieve that goal.” Vegeta turned to look directly at Bulma. “Anything,” he repeated solemnly.

Bulma felt a cold uneasiness grow inside her. “Come on, it can’t be _that_ bad,” she said, half joking, half hoping.

Vegeta’s serious expression told her it was. “If he thinks you mean anything to me, he’ll target you just to mess with me. You need to watch yourself.”

Bulma sat down on the edge of her bed, suddenly scared. She didn’t want to believe what Vegeta was saying, but the candid way he delivered the news told her he wasn’t joking around. “You could have told me about Zarbon before I came to your place!” she said shrilly.

Vegeta huffed. “I _did_.”

“No, you didn’t! You were all grumpy and enigmatic! You didn’t say, ‘Bulma, my cousin will fuck you up if you come over, so stay away for your own good’, now did you?”

“Tch,” Vegeta huffed and looked away, scowling.

Bulma hugged her arms about her, feeling vulnerable. Silence filled the room.

Vegeta finally unfolded his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look… you’re probably okay.”

“Oh gee, great, thanks. ‘Probably’. That’s really reassuring!” Bulma mumbled miserably.

Vegeta curled a lip. “And you give me grief about my attitude?”

Bulma bit her lip, knowing Vegeta was right. She was lashing out because she was scared. She’d never been targeted before. She wasn’t strong or good at fighting like all her friends were, and now she didn’t even have a boyfriend to protect her, not that Yamcha would have stood a chance if even Vegeta couldn’t take on this Zarbon guy. “…Sorry,” she mumbled an apology.

Vegeta huffed and leaned against her windowsill. The silence stretched out between them again.

Bulma glanced up at Vegeta from under her bangs, looking at his sour expression and bruised eye. The injury only added to his bad-boy vibe. If only Vegeta wasn’t such a total jackass, Bulma figured he might have actually be attractive.

“Did you get into another fight?” she asked, desperate to change the topic and end the silence.

Vegeta flashed her a look, raising a hand to gingerly touch his eye. He scowled and looked away, not answering her.

A horrible, horrifying thought struck. “Did… did you get that because of me?” she asked softly. It made sense - Vegeta hadn’t been hurt when she’d seen him at his house only a few hours ago. If Zarbon had hit him just because Bulma had paid him a visit, it would certainly prove a compelling reason for Vegeta to want to warn Bulma of Zarbon’s ill temper.

Vegeta glared at her, his expression hard and unreadable. “And what if it was? Would you feel guilty?” He asked her snidely.

Bulma’s stomach knotted in on itself. “Yes,” she answered honestly, daring to return his stare.

Vegeta’s expression didn’t change. After a moment he lowered his eyes and gave her an indifferent shrug. “Well, don’t lose any sleep over it. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

 _Lies_ , Bulma thought. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Vegeta was lying to protect her. Or perhaps himself. Either way, she knew she was responsible for his black eye. She felt awful.

Bulma stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards her door. She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t touch any of my stuff,” she added, and left her room. She headed down to her kitchen, wondering if Vegeta would even bother to stick around. She half suspected that he would slip out while she was gone. She wasn’t sure if that thought made her feel relieved or disappointed.

When she returned to her bedroom Vegeta was where she’d left him. Bulma held out her hand, offering him a package. “Here.”

Vegeta looked down at the cold, wrapped steak in her hand. “What the hell… It’s not even cooked.”

“It’s not for eating, stupid,” Bulma replied indignantly. “It’s for your eye.”

Vegeta looked up at her. “You don’t have any ice?”

Bulma huffed. “Ice is too cold, and hard. Here.” She approached Vegeta and reached out for his face. 

Vegeta jerked his head back away from her, giving her a suspicious glare. “I can do it myself.”

“Would you stop being such a baby?” Bulma snapped back. She slapped the steak against his eye, harder than was necessary. Vegeta hissed, wincing, but didn’t cry out. He gave her a dour, one-eyed glare.

Bulma wasn’t intimidated. “I can’t believe you climbed up here with all your injuries,” she murmured, trying to be conversational as she treated him.

Vegeta huffed. “I’ve endured worse.”

She raised a brow. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Vegeta gave her an arrogant smirk. “Are you?”

Bulma made an expression of distaste. “I’d be far more impressed if you didn’t get your ass handed to you.”

Vegeta’s smirk quickly died to be replaced by a sullen scowl. “…Waste of a perfectly good steak,” he grumbled, lifting his hand to take over from Bulma so she needn’t hold the steak against his eye.

Bulma leaned back, rolling her eyes. “Only if you throw it out. You can eat it after it thaws.”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Cook,” Vegeta admitted, staring down between them. 

Bulma observed him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. “It’s pretty easy. You just put it in a pan and… cook it.”

Vegeta glared up at her. “Thanks for the lesson, that really cleared things up for me.”

Bulma poked out her tongue. Vegeta made an aggravated sound and looked away, still holding the steak to his eye.

The silence was broken by Vegeta’s stomach rumbling. They both looked at his belly. He glanced up at her, and she smirked at him.

His cheeks pinkened. “Shut it, Briefs.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Tch.” Vegeta kept his eyes, or rather eye, averted, looking embarrassed. Bulma cocked her head, still assessing him. He didn’t seem that scary now that she thought about it, seeing him standing in her room with a steak held to his eye, looking like a scrappy, lost child. 

She stuck her hand out expectantly. Vegeta hesitated, then seeming to know what she was asking of him, reluctantly handed over the steak.

“Medium?” she asked.

“Rare.”

A short while later, Bulma returned to the bedroom with a freshly cooked steak. She’d put some salad and left over pasta on the plate and also brought both aa bottle of water and a can of soda for good measure too, unsure of Vegeta’s preferences. Vegeta’s brows rose at the sight of the meal, but he said nothing of the extravagance. He took it without so much as a thanks, but Bulma hadn’t expected any.

He wolfed into the food with startling ferocity, eating as quickly as he could get the food into his mouth. Bulma sat and watched him eat. He kind of reminded her of Goku who also ate a lot quickly. Growing boys and their appetites, she supposed. “Geez, didn’t you eat dinner?”

Vegeta shook his head as he shoved a giant wedge of bloody steak into his mouth. 

Bulma raised her brows. She was tempted to ask why he hadn’t eaten dinner yet when it was already so late, but then thought better of prying. She tried to ignore the pang of worry she felt about why he hadn’t eaten dinner. The poor neighborhood, the abusive relative, the broken ribs, skipped meals… it wasn’t painting a pretty picture of Vegeta’s life. Bulma pushed her thoughts aside, not wanting to judge or jump to conclusions, and she knew Vegeta would certainly loathe her if he thought she pitied him.

In no time flat Vegeta had the plate completely clean, even scraping it off to get every last bit of sauce. He then cracked open the water bottle, tipped his head back, and drained the entire bottle in several long, large gulps. Bulma watched in amazement as Vegeta’s neck bobbed with each thirsty drag. When the bottle was sucked dry, Vegeta crunched it in his hand and gave a large, satisfied sigh.

Bulma’s brows were still raised. “Good?” she asked, her tone amused.

Vegeta lounged back and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth curling up in a becoming smile.

Oh shit, Bulma thought to herself, he was _very_ attractive when not being surly.

To distract herself, Bulma gathered up his dishes and pointed at his soda. “You going to drink that?”

Vegeta shook his head. “Too much sugar.”

Bulma pointed at the label. “It’s diet.”

Vegeta scoffed. “Worried about your weight?” he asked, looking her over.

“Why, are you saying I should be?” Bulma asked, narrowing her eyes.

Vegeta rubbed his chest, wincing as he prodded his ribs. “Hardly.”

Bulma glared at him, trying to decide if she was being complimented or insulted. It was impossible to tell with Vegeta. One minute he was so bluntly straight forward, the next he seemed to speak half truths and riddles. She didn’t know which was more aggravating. 

“I’m going to clean up.”

“I should get going,” Vegeta interjected before she could leave. 

“Oh. Yeah,” Bulma said.

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Vegeta shoved his hands into his pockets as he pushed up from the windowsill. “Remember what I told you.”

Bulma grimaced. “Like I could forget.”

He grunted and opened the window. “Later, Briefs.”

“Later,” she replied softly as he headed out the way he’d come in. Bulma remained standing in her room a while longer, still holding his dishes, trying to wrap her head around everything that had just transpired. Then she finally made her way to the kitchen to clean up before heading to bed.

 

 

~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~X~_~

* * *

 

_AN: I love blunt, surly Vegeta so much. XD_

_Well, that’s 3 chapters in 3 days. But chapter 4 probably won’t be up until the weekend, I need a couple days to get some RL stuff in order._

_Feel free to stalk me on twitter, same username there, ladyvegeets._

_To all the people defending Yamcha so much - lol, you guys are great, it cracks me up. XD_

_To the 30 something married lady who reads vegebul highschool fics - I totally get ya. I’m a 30 something married lady who WRITES vegebul highschool fics, so, what does that say about me? Haha._

_Keep feeding me your reviews, lovely people! It sustains me. *Totally doesn’t check her email a bajillion times a day for new reviews*_


	4. 04 - Schemes (w FANART)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.04 - Schemes**

 

The next Monday at school, Bulma was reading a university level text book that Mr. Popo had been kind enough to provide her with in class. As such, class went by much faster than usual and Bulma was actually able to learn something. When the bell rang she was surprised how quickly the time had gone. She packed up her things to head out. As she was leaving, someone tugged on her sleeve.

“Briefs.”

Bulma stopped and looked up at Vegeta. She tried not to let the surprise that he had addressed her show on her face. “Hey, Vegeta. What’s up?” She noticed everyone else had already left the class.

“Here,” he said, and shoved his hand out awkwardly at her, his hand fisted around something.

Bulma looked at it skeptically. “What’s that?”

“Money. For the steak,” Vegeta explained, as if it were obvious.

Bulma arched a brow. “I don’t need that.”

Vegeta blushed, looking aggravated that she wouldn’t take the cash. “I don’t want to owe you. Just take it, would you.”

Bulma laughed. Vegeta’s eyes widened, surprised. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Bulma asked, amused at his ignorance. Vegeta scowled. “I’m from THE Briefs family,” she explained. “Aka, Capsule Corporation. Heard of it? We have more money than we could ever hope to spend, and trust me, we try pretty hard to do so. I don’t need you to pay for the steak.”

Vegeta’s lip curled. “And I don’t need hand outs from little rich bitches.”

Bulma’s laughter quickly died, her expression turning to shocked outrage. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Vegeta huffed. “Fine, don’t take my money if you’re too good to accept it. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I know what you think of me, what they all do. I’m some no good loser from a broken home that’ll amount to nothing. Well so what. I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need to be your _pet project_ to fix because you’re feeling sorry for yourself that you and that worthless boyfriend of yours didn’t work out. I want nothing to do with it, or you. All I need to know is how I can pay you back for the steak so I don’t have to be indebted to you, and then I can be rid of you.”

Bulma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was livid, her heart pounding, her fists shaking.

“God, you’re so fucking arrogant and self centered, do you know that?” She shouted back. “If you don’t want people to misjudge you or pity you, maybe you should show them that you’re actually capable. Like, join a club, make some friends, ace a class, or I don’t know, maybe try not getting beat on for a week!”

“Tch, I could do that in my sleep,” Vegeta replied snidely. 

Bulma raised a skeptical brow. “Oh really? You’ve been involved in a fight just about every day you’ve been at this school so far.”

Vegeta folded his arms across his chest. “Most of those were self defense.”

“That still counts!” Bulma said, exasperated. “Normal people don’t put themselves into situations where they need to defend themselves.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“That’s…. that’s not what I’m saying,” Bulma said, her anger deflating. She didn’t really know Vegeta’s situation, and she certainly didn’t want to sound like she was victim bashing. 

“Whatever, Briefs. One week, no fights. Then my debt is paid, and you can leave me the fuck alone,” he snapped at her.

Bulma’s shoulders sagged, defeated. “Sure.”

Vegeta brushed past her, bumping her shoulder roughly as he left, leaving Bulma behind feeling hurt and empty. 

* * *

~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~

 

The next day, Vegeta was late to class. When he came in, he was wearing baggy clothes and a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. He shuffled in quickly and sat down before Bulma could get a good look at him. He kept his head lowered over his desk the entire lesson, and despite her glances, she couldn’t see his face the entire class.

When the bell rang, Vegeta was the first to leave. Bulma looked all over the cafeteria for him but couldn’t find him. That’s when she realized she’d never seen him eat in the cafeteria before. She wondered where he could be hiding during lunches. A thought struck her. The rooftop, it had to be. That’s probably how he’d discovered her that day she’d been crying over Yamcha. It made sense that Vegeta had been using the roof for his lunch periods, seeing as he liked to be alone. He must have stumbled upon her that day by accident when he went to eat lunch.

Bulma made sure there were no teachers about and headed up to the roof. Sure enough she saw him there, huddled on the ground, his knees pulled up, his head lowered, his cap hiding his face. He looked surprisingly fragile. Bulma approached and stopped before him, saying nothing, knowing her presence had been noticed by the way he tensed.

“Fuck off, Briefs,” he snapped at her, his deep, gravely voice breaking.

Bulma tried to swallow down a lump in her throat. Vegeta’s words and tone told her everything she needed to know. Her heart bled for him. She crouched down in front of Vegeta and reached for his hat.

Vegeta slapped her hand away and he looked up, glaring at her. “I said _fuck off_!” he yelled at her, but it was too late. She was able to see his face, and the extent of the damage. Vegeta had another black eye, a split lip, and a bandaid on his cheekbone. He hadn’t even been able to go a day without getting beat up. The fact that he tried to hide it from her told Bulma that it hadn’t been his own doing.

“Vegeta…”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he yelled, his eyes swimming with anger and self loathing. “Don’t you fucking dare pity me. I did this. I wanted this! Don’t you fucking… d-don’t you…” Vegeta’s voice trailed off, and he turned away to punch the wall behind him. Bulma winced. She fought back tears as she watched Vegeta struggle with himself.

He punched the wall a few more times until he left bloody smears from his abused knuckles. He sagged against the wall, pressing his face against it, defeated. His shoulders shook, his breath hitching wetly. Bulma gave him a moment before she tentatively sidled up next to him.

For the rest of lunch she just sat there next to him, lending him her silent support. Neither of them spoke; no words needed to be said. 

* * *

~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~

 

When the lunch bell had rung, Vegeta and Bulma left for their respective classes without a word or look exchanged. Bulma didn’t see Vegeta for the rest of the school day either, but her thoughts never strayed far from him. It rocked her to her core to have witnessed him in such a vulnerable moment, and more than that, to think of the implications of his injuries. What was his situation? From the rumors at school, Vegeta was known to get into fights, but was that the whole story? Was he getting bullied by those guys she’d rescued him from in the park? Was there something even more sinister? Was he being abused at home?

Bulma worried and struggled with these thoughts for the rest of the day. She tried to catch Vegeta before she went home but she couldn’t find him, and eventually she gave up and left. She walked home alone, knowing her friends were at the gym practicing for the Mixed Martial Arts club they were part of. She normally stayed and cheered them on, but now that she had broken up with Yamcha she’d decided not to go in order to give her ex a safe place to hang out with their friends without any awkwardness. As she was walking home, Bulma’s phone rang.

“Chi-Chi?” she answered, her friend’s caller ID popping up on her screen.

“Bulma! Are you coming?” Chi Chi asked her, her voice excited.

“Not today, Chi Chi. What’s up?”

“You’ll never guess who’s signing up for MMA _right now_.”

Bulma’s mind was still elsewhere, and she answered only partly listening. “Mm, who?”

“The new guy, Vegeta!”

Bulma stopped in her tracks, surprised. She pressed the phone to her other ear to ensure she was hearing properly. “Wait, say that again? Vegeta is joining the MMA team?”

“Yep! He’s speaking to Piccolo now, but apparently he’s injured so he can’t participate until he’s healed. Can you believe he’s been attending school with a broken rib? Anyway, apparently his dad called the school and asked if Vegeta could be excused from PE, that’s how the Coach knew. Vegeta seemed pretty upset about that. Piccolo said Vegeta can still attend practice but he can only watch and do light exercises until he’s well enough to train.”

Bulma was rooted to the spot, listening to Chi Chi’s every word, stunned by the news. She was having trouble wrapping her head around the idea of Vegeta joining a club and interacting with other students, especially when most of them were her friends. “Wow, that’s…” she didn’t know _what_ that was.

“Crazy? I know, right?” Chi-Chi finished her sentence for her. “You should see Yamcha. He’s livid.”

Bulma arched a brow. She hadn’t even thought about that. Yamcha would certainly not be happy about being teammates with the guy who knocked him down in one hit. 

“Yamcha can go cry about it to Launch if he wants to,” Bulma replied caustically as she started walking again.

Chi-Chi hummed, not quite agreeing or disagreeing. “Harsh. Anyway, I should go, practice is starting. I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Bulma put her phone away and wondered how things were going to change now that Vegeta was integrating himself into her friends circle. She hadn’t told any of them about her encounters with Vegeta, it hadn’t seemed necessary. Most of them still thought poorly of Vegeta, and her interactions with Vegeta had felt too… personal, to share. The coming days were going to be interesting. Bulma decided she might have to start attending training again just to watch what happened; hopefully Yamcha would be too focused on Vegeta to care about her presence.

With her mind on the MMA club, Bulma went home and got herself a large dinner. She was starving. She hadn’t eaten lunch due to her encounter with Vegeta on the roof. As she was eating, it occurred to her that Vegeta also hadn’t eaten lunch. Had he skipped his meal entirely? She hadn’t seen him with any food, packed or bought. Was the the reason he spent lunch on the roof not because he wanted to be alone, but because he had nothing to eat? The thought left a sour taste in Bulma’s mouth.

After she ate, Bulma prepared more food for a lunch box. When she was done she went upstairs to lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was tempted to call Chi-Chi or Goku to find out how the rest of practice had gone, but she resisted in case she raised their suspicion about her interest in Vegeta. She would have called Vegeta to ask him, but she had no way to contact him and she sure as hell wasn’t going to visit his house after the warning he’d given her. Bulma furrowed her brow, scheming. This wouldn’t do, she was nosy and she had no way to check up on Vegeta with him being off the grid to her. She decided that one way or another, she’d get Vegeta’s number.

* * *

~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~

 

“Hey Bulma, wanna get lunch?” Chi-Chi asked her the next day at the lunch break.

Bulma swung her bag over her shoulder. “Sorry, Chi-Chi, I’ve gotta do something. Go have lunch with the others - check in on Yamcha for me, will you? Bye!”

Bulma waved and headed off before Chi-Chi could pry into her plans. When the coast was clear, Bulma snuck up onto the roof. Vegeta was there, playing an old game boy system. His backpack was next to him, a sad brown paper bag in his lap.

Bulma walked over and sat down next to him. “What’chya playing?” she asked, trying to keep her tone peppy.

Vegeta frowned and ignored her, focusing on his game.

Unperturbed, Bulma started rifling in her bag until she pulled out her lunch box. She opened it, revealing steak, potato salad, some hard boiled eggs, and some chopped vegetables. It was a huge lunch. She sighed dramatically as she surveyed the food.

Vegeta flashed her a quick, annoyed look from the corner of his eye, then went back to his game.

“I don’t know why she gives this to me when I’m on a diet,” Bulma said as if to herself. She looked at Vegeta’s paper bag. “What have you got to eat?”

Vegeta grabbed the bag and shoved it away from her. “Nothing.”

“Good!” Bulma said. Her cheery tone was enough to surprise Vegeta, and he looked at her. “Here, have this then,” Bulma explained as she plopped the food in Vegeta’s lap. “I’ll just throw it out otherwise.” 

Vegeta looked at the food in surprise, then squinted at Bulma in suspicion. 

She smiled benignly at him. “You’d be doing me a favor,” she wheedled. “I’d hate to waste good cooking, but, you know… Gotta watch my figure.”

Vegeta sighed, putting his game away and lifting the lunch box up. He picked up the plastic fork and started eating, wolfing down the food in much the same way as he’d done in her bedroom. He winced as eating aggravated his split lip, but he ignored the pain and continued to stuff his face.

Bulma smiled, pleased with herself and with Vegeta’s appetite. It wasn’t until her own stomach rumbled that she realized the flaw in her plan. She had nothing to eat for herself.

Vegeta cast her a glance at the sound of her stomach growling. 

Bulma blushed. “Ha ha, dieting sure is hard…” she joked lamely.

Vegeta stared at her, then went back to eating. “S’for the best. The meat’s overcooked,” he said between mouthfuls.

Bulma stiffened, affronted. “It is _not_!”

“Is too,” he replied, and ripped off a chunk of the meat, handing it to her. “See? Try it.”

Bulma took the meat and defiantly chomped into it. It was perfectly succulent and rare, just the way Vegeta liked it. “You’re delusional. It is _not_ overcooked.”

Vegeta grunted. “Hn. Guess it was just the part I ate then.”

Bulma smugly ate the rest of the meat, confident in her cooking ability, but her smugness quickly vanished in the wake of realization. Vegeta had tricked her - he had shared the food with her without being overt about it. And she’d fallen for it. _Damn_ he was clever. 

Bulma sullenly sucked her fingers clean as she watched Vegeta shovel down the rest of the packed lunch. He ate every last bit and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before handing back the tupperware. He gave her a cautious glance. “The potato salad,” he said, pausing.

“Yes?” she prompted, curious.

“…That was pretty tasty.”

Bulma beamed, flashing him a wide smile. “I can bring you more if you like!”

Vegeta didn’t seem to know how to reply to such an offer. He turned, digging in his bag and pulling out a water bottle. He opened it and drank most of it down. Before he finished he shot her a quick look and stopped when there were a few mouthfuls left. He offered her the remainder.

Bulma shyly accepted the bottle, endeared by his thoughtfulness. “Thanks,” she said, and swallowed down the rest of the water. She returned the bottle to him, and Vegeta shoved it back into his bag, along with the crumpled brown bag he’d had before. 

“You know,” Bulma pressed, feeling brave. “If you give me your number, we could arrange all sorts of tasty lunches.”

“No,” Vegeta said flatly, standing and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

Bulma pouted, starting to get used to Vegeta’s curt way of talking. “But what if I pack something you don’t like and ruin your lunch?”

“I’m not picky. And I’m not giving you my number.”

“Aha! But you _have_ a number to give, then?” Bulma declared, standing up, excited. She’d half suspected that Vegeta didn’t even have a phone. She’d never seen him with one.

Vegeta scowled at her, gripping his backpack tightly. “Don’t bring me any lunch. I already joined the stupid fight club to pay you back for the first steak. I can’t afford to pay you back for more.”

Bulma sighed, exasperated. “You don’t have to pay back friends, Vegeta.”

He gave her an appalled look. “Since when did we become friends?”

“Since… Since I just said so,” Bulma declared defiantly.

Vegeta scoffed. “I don’t need anything nearly so ridiculous,” he stated. And with that he left her standing on the roof, the empty lunch box still in her hand, and an aggravated determination burning in her soul. 

 

* * *

~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~

 

The next day at school, Bulma headed in early to speak with Mr. Popo.

“Sir?” she asked, hovering outside the teacher’s room. Mr Popo looked up and invited her in.

“How can I help you, Miss Briefs?”

Bulma fidgeted. “Um, sir, when is the next group project?”

Mr Popo arched a brow. “Well actually, I had something in mind to assign the class this week. Why do you ask?”

Bulma felt an elated thrill at the news. “Sir, could I impose on you to partner me with Vegeta?”

Mr Popo looked very shocked. “You want to work with Vegeta? Can I ask why?”

Bulma looked down, embarrassed. “Well, I don’t think he has a lot of friends, well _any_ really, and I think the other students are scared of him.”

Mr Popo gave her a soft smile. “I see. And why couldn’t you ask to be his friend without this pretense?”

Bulma blushed. “Well, I don’t think he’d be open to something quite so direct.”

“Ah,” Mr Popo said. “Well, as long as he doesn’t object, I don’t see why we can’t try, although it’ll be a shame to have my two best students paired together rather than helping the weaker students.”

It was Bulma’s turn to look surprised. “We’re the best?” she asked, surprised. It was no secret Bulma was the top of the class, but while Vegeta had proven he was no dummy, it was still amazing to think he was scoring higher than the other students.

Mr Popo nodded. “Yes, well, he’s not up to your league of genius, Miss Briefs, but Vegeta tested better than the rest of the class, after you. I was surprised myself, he doesn’t seem the studious type.”

“No,” Bulma agreed.

“Perhaps it’s an innate quality,” Mr Popo mused.

Bulma had stopped listening, her mind already leaping ahead. “Thank you, Sir. See you in class!” she said, waving as she headed out.

Later, in advanced class, Mr Popo announced they’d be doing a group project, researching and creating a new invention in pairs. He assigned everyone a partner, writing the names up on the board. When Vegeta saw he’d been paired with Bulma, he turned in his seat and glared at her, suspicious. Bulma feigned innocence. When Vegeta scowled harder at her, she figured she hadn’t been convincing, but there was little Vegeta could do without causing a scene.

“I suggest you make time after class to work on this assignment when you can,” Mr Popo suggested. “The project will be due at the end of the month and will be a significant percentage towards your final grade.”

The class groaned and a moment later the bell rang. Everyone packed up to leave. Bulma skipped over to Vegeta’s desk. “So…” she said in a friendly, sing-song voice. “Looks like we’re partners.”

“Choose whatever topic you like,” Vegeta told her flatly. “Just tell me what to research and I’ll give you my half of the work.”

Bulma shook her head. “That won’t work. We’ll need to collaborate.”

Vegeta gave her an aggravated look. “Why?”

“Because I’m Bulma Briefs. I don’t half ass anything, especially not an invention assignment. That’s my specialty! And this count towards our grade, a lot, didn’t you hear? I’ll settle for nothing less than an A triple plus.”

Vegeta glared at her, but didn’t protest further. 

Bulma smiled at him sweetly. “So I’ll need your number and e-mail. And we’ll have to set up a schedule for when we can meet and work on the project together.”

Vegeta paused, and Bulma caught a flash of worry in the boy’s eyes. He spoke hesitantly, looking around to ensure they were alone. “It wouldn’t be safe to give you my number. For the same reason why it’s not safe for you to come over.”

Bulma’s confidence deflated a little. “Oh…” She pondered the problem, then perked up. “Ah! I’ve got it. Are you free after school?” Vegeta gave her a skeptical look. Bulma pushed on regardless. “Let’s meet at the end of the day,” she suggested cheerily.

“I’m not walking home with you, Briefs.”

Bulma put a hand on her hip, undeterred. “Fine. Come to my house _on your own_ after school. Is that acceptable?”

“Whatever.”

“Is that a yes?” Bulma persisted.

“ _Yes_ , jeez, you’re annoying!” Vegeta complained, but Bulma didn’t mind. Vegeta had agreed, and that’s all she needed. 

“Here,” she said, and shoved a lunch box into his chest which he reflexively caught. Before he could argue, she hurried out, waving at him. “Later this afternoon, then!”

Vegeta watched her go, unable to protest the free food or their meeting as she dashed into the hall to her next class, congratulating herself at her own craftiness. 

 

* * *

~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~___~X~

..... Art by the amazing [VegetaPsycho](http://vegetapsycho.tumblr.com)!!!

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/VegetaPsycho_FriendsAU_fanart_zpsodji5xbt.jpg.html)

 

 **_AN:_ ** _I have a fetish about beating Vegeta up, poor guy. >:)_

 

_Question time! Would love to hear your thoughts:_

_1) what’s Bulma planning, that crafty vixen?_

_2) where y’all reading from?_

_3) what’s in the bag?_

 

_Apologies to my followers if you got a message about chapter 3 twice, I was trying to fix an error and goofed, whoops._

_Shout out to all my ‘guest’ reviewers. Thanks for taking the time to review - I wish I could send you personal replies like I try to do with signed-in members, but if you’re not logged in I’m unable to do that. Feel free to shoot me a message here, or on twitter, or at lady vegeets at gmail dot com._

_Next chapter should be hopefully up in a couple days!_

 


	5. 05 - Emojis (w FANARTs)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.05 - Emojis**

 

The doorbell rang.

Bulma hurried down to the ground floor to answer it. Sure enough, Vegeta was standing on the front porch, hands shoved in his pockets, an uncomfortable, scowling expression on his face. He looked around inside the house suspiciously. “Your folks aren’t here?”

Bulma titled her head as she thought about her parents’ whereabouts. “Hmm, Dad’s probably in the lab working. Mom is in the glasshouse I think.”

Vegeta didn’t seem reassured. “They don’t care you have a guest?”

Bulma quirked her brow. “Uh, no. Not really. They don’t care about much. It’s fine. C’mon in.”

Vegeta stepped inside reluctantly, looking about as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment. He stopped in the hallway and pulled his bag around in front, digging out the lunch box Bulma had thrust upon him in class. Its contents were empty. “Thanks,” he said gruffly as he handed it over.

Bulma took the container, surprised by the verbal gratitude. “Mmhm,” she replied. “I put as much potato salad in as I could get.”

“I noticed,” Vegeta said, his voice still gruff. He refused to look at her.

Seeing his awkwardness, Bulma changed the subject by pointing up the stairs. “This way.” 

She led him upstairs and through a few corridors until she reached her room. A glance back found Vegeta was eyeing her house with cautious interest. 

“Here we are!” she announced as they entered her room.

“Your house is huge,” Vegeta remarked as they threw their bags down.

“Mm-hmm,” Bulma replied absentmindedly. She started digging around in one of her draws. “Do you have a favorite color?”

Vegeta hesitated to answer. “Why?”

“Because it might help narrow down the choices,” she replied as she gathered something from the draw. She stood up, a handful of cell phones clutched precariously in her hands.

“Holy shit, how many of those do you have?” Vegeta declared as she dropped the phones on her bed, spreading them out to be easily displayed.

“Oh, these are just the ones that are still active. I have others, but we’d have to get the lines set up.”

Vegeta stared at her as if she’d grown another head. Bulma blinked at him, feeling a blush rising. “What?”

“You weren’t kidding about being rich, were you?”

Bulma leveled Vegeta with a smug look. “Nope. If anything, I downplayed our situation. The _government_ borrows money from us.”

Vegeta raised a hand and rubbed the scar on his cheek from his most recent beating. He looked uncomfortable in the face of her wealth, but he finally drifted over to the bed, taking a look at her phone collection. 

Bulma picked up a red cell. “How about this one? It’s the latest model.”

Vegeta glanced at it, then looked back down at the pile. He picked up a blue one. “Is this one functional?”

Bulma took it from him and looked it over. “Yep. And, it matches my hair!” she said, putting it next to her hair and beaming cutely to show off the color.

Vegeta blushed and snatched the phone back from her. “That’s not why I picked it,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah yeah.” Bulma leaned over and pointed to a tag on the back of the phone. “That’s the number. So now you can send or receive messages and calls from anyone, without any _relatives_ finding out.”

Vegeta grunted.

Bulma continued. “If anyone does find you with that phone, you could just say you stole it or-”

Vegeta stiffened. “Not likely. Do you have any idea how badly he’d b-” Vegeta cut himself short and looked away, his jaw clenching so tightly Bulma could see a vein throb. 

Bulma felt her heart clench in sympathy. “… Well, not stolen then. I just meant you should use whatever excuse you think would be appropriate,” she amended softly. “Maybe you could say a friend left the phone behind and you’re going to return it to them later. Although hopefully you won’t have to explain it to anyone. That’s kind of the point after all, it’s suppose to be a secret phone no one else will know about, except you and me. It’s yours to use freely.”

Vegeta still looked tense, but he wasn’t shooting the free phone down either. Bulma hoped that meant he was going to accept it.

“Let me text you, to see that it’s working,” she suggested when he didn’t say anything. She grabbed her own cell and double-checked the number on Vegeta’s. She punched out a message in lightning speed, _It’s me, Bulma_ , it read, with a bunch of smiley faces, flowers and other cute emojis. A moment later the phone in Vegeta’s hand buzzed.

He looked at the screen. His eyebrow raised, and he cast her an ‘are you kidding me’ look at all the emojis.

Bulma poked her tongue out at him cutely.

He huffed and shoved the phone into his pocket, keeping his hand there. He looked away. “I should head home before I’m any later.”

“Alright,” Bulma agreed reluctantly. His visit had been awfully brief. She pulled out a cord and handed it over. “To charge the phone,” she explained and Vegeta shoved it into his bag. “I’ll text you so we can plan on when to meet for our project.”

“Right,” Vegeta replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder. 

Bulma followed him out to the front door, knowing people often got lost in her house, but Vegeta seemed to remember the way. He opened the front door to head out.

“I’ll text you a lot!” Bulma told him in parting.

Vegeta didn’t even bother looking back as he called out. “I’ll turn the damn thing off if you do.”

Bulma grinned. “No you won’t.”

“Try me.”

“Bye!” she called as he reached the street and walked off out of sight. Bulma then ran back up to her room, grabbed her cell, and started texting.

 _Aren’t you glad to have a friend like me?_ [smiley face] [winky face].

Bulma bit her lip, waiting to see if Vegeta would actually reply. After a minute, her phone flashed with a message.

 _Yeah, I’ve always wanted an obnoxious stalker._  

Bulma snorted.

 _You should be so lucky to have a beautiful girl like me give you the time of day, let alone home cooked meals and a cell phone._ [Girl face] [meal icon] [phone icon].

Bulma sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. 

_I’m returning this damn thing to you tomorrow._

Bulma laughed. She punched in a sad-face emoji and sent it.

She waited a minute. Then another. No reply came. Bulma scowled and typed out another message.

 _Don’t ignore me, grumpy_.

A minute later she received a reply. _I’m turning this thing off now_.

Bulma scoffed. _No you won’t._ [devil face]

She waited, and waited. When nothing came, she typed another message. _I know you’re just pretending to have the phone off, jerk face._ She waited some more, but there was still no reply. Bulma scowled and brought the phone to her ear, pressing the dial button next to Vegeta’s phone number.

The call went straight to voice mail.

“Oh my god,” she shrieked, and started furiously typing. _I can’t believe you actually turned the phone off, you stupid jerk!_ Bulma fumed, and then an idea struck her. 

_Fine,_

_keep_

_your_

_phone_

_off._

_See_

_if_

_I_

_care._

_I’ll_

_just_

_keep_

_messaging_

_you_

_until_

_you_

_turn_

_it_

_back_

_on._

She wrote the message word by word, sending each one as a separate message. She imagined the look of Vegeta’s face when he turned his phone on and received some 20+ new messages, each only a word long. She giggled to herself and put her phone away, giving up on pestering Vegeta. She went about her afternoon as usual.

That evening, Bulma’s phone buzzed. Distracted with other work, it took Bulma a moment to remember that she’d been harassing Vegeta via text. A little nervous and exhilarated, Bulma unlocked her phone to check her messages.

 _Are you fucking INSANE?_ Vegeta’s message read.

Bulma smirked, satisfied with Vegeta’s reaction. She was going to send the devil emoji, but then thought better of it. Instead she turned on the front facing camera and pulled on her eye, poking out her tongue to make a face at the camera. She snapped a shot, checked it to make sure she looked good - of course she did, she always looked good - and sent it to Vegeta as a message.

As it sent, Bulma lay down on her bed and waited for Vegeta’s reply. Her stomach knotted nervously.

A minute ticked by. Bulma worried her lip, waiting. Then her phone buzzed and Bulma sucked in a breath when she saw she’d received a picture text back. She opened it.

It was a picture of Vegeta’s hand, flipping her his middle finger. 

Bulma felt her mouth curl up in an amused smile. She typed back a reply. _That’s no way to respond to a lady_.

It didn’t take long for a response. _You’re no lady_. Bulma pouted but didn’t even have time to reply before another message popped up. _Thankfully._  

A weird tightness fluttered in her chest. The room suddenly felt too warm for comfort. Bulma hesitated, suddenly at a loss at what to reply. Vegeta saved her the trouble.

_I’m going to bed, so stop messaging me._

_So early?_ Bulma typed and added a sad face.

_Yes. Stop sending messages now, or I’ll come over there and end your miserable existence while you sleep._

_Okay, this is my last message. Goodnight, Vegeta._ [winky face] [moon icon] [sleepy face]

The message showed it was sending when Bulma realized she’d sent the wrong emoji. Instead of the sleepy face, she’d sent a heart. Bulma sat bolt up right in bed and desperately started scrabbling with her phone, trying to cancel the message, but it was too late.

Message sent.

Bulma cried out, appalled. Of all the typing errors she could have made, she’d sent Vegeta a goddamn _heart_ emoji?! She flopped back in her bed, groaning, and waited for the fallout. Would he be mad? Disgusted? Insulting? Or would this be the final straw for him to stop talking to her all together? She didn’t know what would be worse, if Vegeta replied, or if he didn’t. Either option was dreadful to think about.

The phone buzzed. Bulma whimpered, hesitating to see what he’d written back. She slowly brought the phone in front of her face and opened the message.

_Night, Bulma._

That was it. Bulma stared at the message for a solid minute, trying to process the two word reply. There was no comment about the heart, no insults, no threats, nothing but a simple, blunt, goodnight in the way Vegeta expressed all his thoughts. It was as if he hadn’t paid that heart any attention at all.

Bulma sighed. Vegeta must not have thought anything of the heart, ignoring it as some girly fascination with cute emojis. Decoration. Nothing more.

Bulma continued to stare at his message, frowning.

_Night, Bulma._

Why hadn’t he commented on the heart?

_Night, Bulma._

Why was she so obsessed that he hadn’t commented about the heart?

_Night, Bulma._

Why did she feel more disappointed than relieved?

_Night, Bulma._

And why did her heart skip a beat every time she looked over the message, and read her first name in his voice?

“Oh no…” she whispered to herself. She let her hand fall to the side and stared up at the ceiling for a long, long while. “I’m doomed.”

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 “What’s wrong, Sweety?” Mrs Briefs asked her daughter the next morning as she busied about the kitchen, getting breakfast ready.

“Hmm?” Bulma replied distractedly, checking her messages. There were no new ones.

“You keep checking your phone,” Mrs. Briefs pointed out.

Bulma blushed and put her phone down. “Oh… I keep thinking it buzzes.”

“Well why not turn the volume on, dear?” Mrs. Briefs suggested sensibly. 

Bulma put the phone on the kitchen counter and tried not to stare at it. She’d debated about sending Vegeta a message when she woke up that morning. She was still a little conflicted about her feelings for the surly boy that had suddenly become a prominent figure in her life. Bulma had finally settled on sending him a little sun emoji as way of morning greeting, and had left it at that. Vegeta still hadn’t replied.

Bulma thought she saw her phone flash a notification from the corner of her eye. She unlocked the screen to check. Nothing. “Goddamnit,” Bulma cursed under her breath.

“Now now, that language isn’t becoming,” Mrs. Briefs chided gently. She placed a plate of food in front of Bulma. “Bon appetite!”

 Bulma picked up her fork and was about to dig in when the counter vibrated loudly, her phone skidding against the smooth surface. Bulma abandoned her food and snatched up her phone.

Vegeta had replied, sending only a little emoji of a person in motion. Bulma squinted at it, trying to wrack her brain as to what it might mean.

“Mama, what’s this?” she asked, pointing at the emoji, showing her mother the screen.

Mrs. Briefs squinted at the picture. “Hmm… looks like a boy.”

“No, but, what’s he doing?”

“Running I suppose. Eat your breakfast, dear, you don’t want to be late for school,” Mrs. Briefs told her.

Bulma frowned, puzzled. She finally texted Vegeta back a question mark, and started eating her breakfast.

A minute later, she had the fork raised to her mouth when she got a reply. Bulma opened the message and her fork fell out of her hand, her mouth dropping open.

Vegeta had sent a picture of himself. The shot was taken to demonstrate what he’d been doing; it wasn’t centered properly, only displaying his jaw downwards, and it was slightly blurry, having been snapped quickly and sent without concern for quality. Despite it’s flaw, Bulma couldn’t stop staring. Vegeta was wearing workout clothes, black track pants and a white shirt that was drenched in sweat. The top clung to his front, showing a hint of abs beneath the soaked fabric. She could see sweat dripping down his jaw, beading on his throat. Bulma stared, transfixed, her eyes roaming down Vegeta’s sweaty body and back up to linger on his jaw, his split lip barely in frame, his mouth parted as if gasping for air. Her gut clenched tightly, and she felt a heat rise up within her.

“Oh my god… I’m in big trouble…” she groaned.

Mrs. Briefs looked over at her. “Hmm? What’s wrong, Sweety?”

Bulma couldn’t look away from Vegeta’s picture. “A boy.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“Always what?”

“Trouble,” Mrs. Briefs smiled sweetly at her daughter.

Bulma sighed. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to reply to Vegeta’s picture.

 _Doesn’t your rib hurt too much to run_? She finally typed, sending the message. 

 _Doesn’t matter,_ he replied.

Bulma rolled her eyes at Vegeta’s tough-guy attitude. 

 _No wonder you’re always so testy. I’d be grumpy too if I was constantly in pain_. [angry face] [sad face].

Bulma waited, but Vegeta didn’t seem inclined to reply. Getting an idea, Bulma jumped up and pulled out the lunch box she’d prepared for Vegeta that day. She opened the lid and snapped a photo, and sent it along with a short message. 

_Guess you’ll have a good appetite for lunch. [Food icon]_

She sent the message. 

A moment later he replied, _Needs more meat._

Bulma scoffed at Vegeta’s audacity. No ‘thank you’, no ‘I don’t need hand outs’. Just an order to add more meat. Bulma grumbled under her breath as she went about searching the refrigerator for more meat to put into Vegeta’s lunch.

She took another photo and sent it. 

 _Acceptable_ , Vegeta replied a while later. 

Bulma had to restrain herself from throwing the lunch box in the trash out of spite. Feeling agitated with his cocksure attitude and playboy photo that she couldn’t erase from her mind, Bulma shoved her phone in her pocket to ignore it, and finished her morning routine to get ready for school.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

“Chi-Chi, I need your advice,” Bulma confided to her friend as they walked to school together. “And you can’t tell a sole, especially none of the guys.”

“Like I tell them _anything_ we talk about,” Chi-Chi smiled at her friend.

Bulma returned the smile. “Haha, well, true. But… I think, I might, kind of have a little crush, maybe, on someone…”

Chi-Chi’s brows rose high. “Wow, Bulma. You work fast.”

“It’s not like I meant for it to happen!” Bulma cried out, feeling horrible. She knew she and Yamcha had only broken up recently, and she felt she was being disloyal somehow, despite how things had ended between them. “Am I just subconsciously looking for a rebound?”

Chi-Chi nodded. “Probably. Or you might be looking for a way to get back at Yamcha, or for a replacement for the hole he left in your social life.”

Bulma’s shoulders sagged. “I guess…” she said, feeling worse. Was that really what she was doing by focusing on Vegeta so much? That wouldn’t be fair to Yamcha or Vegeta if that were the case.

“Is it serious?” Chi-Chi asked. “Has anything happened? Is this guy interested in you?”

Bulma blushed. “Nothing’s happened. I’m not even sure I feel _that_ way, you know. I’m just… confused. And I’m pretty sure he’s _not_ interested in me.”

“Is he single?”

Bulma felt a twist of panic in her stomach. Was Vegeta single? She had no idea. She’d assumed so, but for all she knew Vegeta had some girlfriend somewhere. The thought wasn’t pleasant to her.

Bulma was saved from answering by a friendly voice calling out. “Chi-Chi, Bulma!” Goku came running up to join them.

Bulma flashed Chi-Chi a ‘don’t say anything’ look. Chi-Chi nodded, understanding. Goku caught up to them and flung an arm around Chi-Chi, beaming at them. 

“Morning, Son,” Bulma greeted.

“Morning, Bulma. What’s new?” Goku grinned. He always seemed to be in a good mood. He was the polar opposite to Vegeta.

“Not much,” Bulma shrugged. “Do you guys have practice tonight?”

Goku nodded. “Yep, sure do. Are you going to come by?”

“Maybe,” Bulma replied noncommittally. 

“You should,” Goku encouraged. “It’s not the same without everyone all together. And we have a new member now too.”

“Right, I heard,” Bulma said, trying to sound neutral. “How has practice been?”

Goku talked about fighting and other things for the rest of their walk to school.

Later in the day as the lunch bell rang, Bulma made her excuses to secretly go share lunch with Vegeta on the roof. He was playing his game boy as usual. He looked up at her as she approached.

“Your delivery,” Bulma announced, handing over the lunchbox.

Vegeta put his game aside and accepted the food. He grunted something and started eating before Bulma had even sat down next to him. 

“You’re welcome,” she said dryly.

Vegeta paused, glancing at her, then looked away. “… Thanks.” He went back to shoveling in food.

Bulma was speechless. She hadn’t expected him to actually thank her. Perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all. 

“So… do you run every morning?” Bulma asked conversationally.

Vegeta shrugged, not pausing to answer. 

Bulma rested her chin in her hand, watching him eat, realizing it was pointless to converse when he was more invested in the meal than small talk.

Vegeta glanced at her as she ate. He scowled at her. 

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “What?”

“You’re staring.”

Bulma sat upright and turned away, knowing he was right. “Sorry.” _Idiot_ , she chastised herself. She leaned back against the wall and stared up at the blue sky. She watched a few scant clouds drift by before she looked down to dig out her own lunch from her bag.

“So, we never actually planned a time to meet for our class project,” she pointed out as she ate some rolled sushi. “Because SOMEONE turned their phone off.”

Vegeta snorted. “After practice.”

Bulma looked at him. “What?”

Vegeta’s brow furrowed. “Nights after practice, I can come over to your place.” He cast her an uncertain look. “Does that work for you?”

Bulma smiled at him. “Mm-hm, sure does.”

Vegeta put some fried egg into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully as he eyed her sushi.

Bulma raised a brow. “Want some?” she offered, holding up a slice of sushi roll.

Vegeta paused his eating. “What is it?”

“Makizushi.”

“Mucky-what?”

Bulma laughed. Vegeta scowled at her. 

“Just try it,” she insisted, and plopped the sushi into his lunchbox. 

“Don’t put it there, I didn’t say I wanted it!” he snapped at her.

“Just eat the damn thing and be grateful, will you?”

They spent the rest of lunch half arguing as they ate. Lunch passed quickly and soon it was time for them to head to their classes. 

“See you at practice then,” Bulma said as she packed her bag.

“You’re attending?” Vegeta asked, surprised.

Bulma nodded. “I usually do, all my friends are there.” She paused, looking at him. Feeling brave, she added, “Especially now.”

Vegeta frowned but didn’t make any rude retorts. Bulma took that as a good sign and grinned, nudging him. 

“See, I’m growing on you, aren’t I?”

“Like cancer.” 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

1).... Art by [AlienaChan](https://twitter.com/Aliena_Chan) 

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/AlienaChan_Fanart_Friends_zpsjyejnnbe.jpg.html)

 

2) ... art by **Koii**

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/Koii_VegetaSnap_emoji_zpsffy4fvsl.jpg.html)

 

 

3)... Art by [lovelykotori](http://lovelykotori.tumblr.com/post/153075549616/okay-now-i-get-it-where-ppl-find-inspiration-i)

 

 **_AN:_ ** _Hahahahaha Vegeta, you crack me up XD_

_Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I love getting them, they totally make my day._

_Next chapter up very soon!_

_**Disclaimer** : Obviously I don’t own DBZ characters - they belong to Akira Toriyama, Funimation and Toei Animation as far as I know. _


	6. 06 - Brutal

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.06 - Brutal**

 

Bulma sat up in the bleachers as her friends practiced martial arts down below. Yamcha had been shocked to see her there at first, and Bulma in turn had felt a maelstrom of emotions at the sight of him - her wound was still raw, but she knew in time she and Yamcha would be able to move past their awkwardness. Yamcha was soon too busy training to pay her any attention.

Vegeta was also sitting on a bench, right in the front, forced to be a spectator due to his injuries and his Father’s request for his son to sit out of sports until his ribs had healed. Bulma sat several rows behind Vegeta; it reminded her of class. From this position she could surreptitiously watch Vegeta’s back while pretending to watch her friends train. Although Goku and the others were currently not training, instead goofing around, taking advantage of the fact that Coach Piccolo had stepped out to take a call.

Her phone suddenly buzzed. Vegeta had messaged her. _Why are you friends with these people? They all seem like idiots._

Bulma rolled her eyes at Vegeta’s arrogant words. _They are not. They just don’t have a stick up their butt like someone I know_. [Scowly face]

She watched as Vegeta checked his phone. He turned around and glared at her over his shoulder. Bulma ignored him, raising her phone and pretending to primp in front of it, using it as a mirror.

It buzzed in her face. _Says the self righteous bitch_.

Bulma scowled at his message. She angrily typed back a reply. _Says the mightier-than-thou jerk._ [angry face]

_Ooh, terrifying. Really though. You’re leagues above these people._

Bulma paused in typing her reply. Vegeta was really pressing the issue. It was unusual for him to show such a serious interest in her life. _Didn’t realize you thought so highly of me,_ [winky face], Bulma finally wrote back.

_Being better than a bunch of idiots isn’t high praise. Don’t let it get to your head._

Bulma scowled at the back of Vegeta’s spiky-haired head before replying. _Hey, they’re good people. They help me and support me in both good and bad times. I’ve known them for a long time, Goku especially._ [Hearts] [group of people]

 _Goku? The big one? God, he’s the dumbest one here_. Down on the gym floor, Yamcha suddenly cried out as Krillin knocked him over. She saw Vegeta shake his head and he sent a follow-up reply. _Scrap that, your ex takes last place in the moron food chain._

Bulma tried to frown, but found herself fighting back a laugh. She was still bitter enough about Yamcha cheating on her that having Vegeta call him names felt good. 

 _Yeah, well, I wish I’d known that before I started dating him_. [Eye-rolling face]

 _You clearly have poor taste in friends_.

 _Is that why I’ve befriended you?_ She teased, with another winky face.

 _I’m the first smart choice you’ve made in a while_.

Bulma snorted audibly. _Well, better than Yamcha, at least_. [Thumbs down]

_It’s a miracle your ex can function with such poor coordination._

_Especially now that he doesn’t have me around to help._ [Angel face]

_He’s lucky that’s all he doesn’t have._

Bulma’s eyebrows rose. _What’s that supposed to mean_? [confused face]

 _Where I come from, if a guy treated his girl the way he did you, he wouldn’t have the parts left to be called a man afterwards_. 

Bulma winced at the implication. _Brutal. I couldn’t even take our cat to get neutered._ [dismayed face] _I suppose Yamcha’s lucky to not be where you’re from._

_Want me to beat him up in lieu of a neutering?_

Bulma hesitated in replying. A moment ticked by, then another. Soon an entire minute had gone, but she couldn’t make her fingers answer Vegeta’s text, her mind conjuring images of Vegeta enacting revenge on her behalf.

When he didn’t get a reply, Vegeta turned in his seat to look up at her. He cocked a brow, surprised by her hesitation. Intrigued. Something dark flashed in his black eyes.

Bulma blushed, feeling naked and ashamed that she was even considering his offer. She shook her head and lowered her eyes.

 _Don’t_. 

Vegeta glanced at the message, then turned back away to face the gym. 

Bulma swallowed, her throat dry, her heart pounding. She hadn’t really wanted Yamcha beaten up, she wasn’t _that_ bitter at him. But the thought of Vegeta offering to pummel someone for her… It had sparked something primal within her. In that one, brief heartbeat, Bulma had tasted power, to control Vegeta, to hurt Yamcha… and she was utterly terrified by how much she’d liked it. Disgusted with herself, she didn’t use her phone for the rest of practice.

When training ended, Bulma decided to leave while her friends showered and changed. Vegeta didn’t need to change, having only sat on a bench the whole time, but the coach took him aside to talk to him about ways to start easing into exercise with his injuries. Vegeta looked irritated by the inconvenience. Bulma had to hide a smirk; she doubted the coach knew that Vegeta was already going on morning runs, to hell with ‘easing into exercise’. She left, knowing Vegeta wouldn’t be too far behind her to study at her house as they’d planned.

When she got home she barely had time to clean up before the doorbell rang. She let Vegeta in and they went to her room. 

“So, I had a couple ideas for our project,” Bulma said, excited to be talking science. They sat on cushions at a floor table in her room. “It’s something my father and I have talked about before. We could invent a device that is able to store large items in a small container, like a capsule.”

Vegeta scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. We’ll be laughed out of class with something so science-fiction as that.”

Bulma shook her head. “No, really. I know it’s far fetched, but if we consider-”

“Knock knock!” A cheerily sweet voice interrupted from the door. Vegeta visibly stiffened.

Bulma was less alarmed, knowing the voice. “Come in, Mama.”

Mrs. Briefs let herself in, beaming at the two in the room. “Bulma honey, you have a guest? I don’t believe I’ve met this strapping young gentleman before.”

“This is Vegeta, Mama,” Bulma introduced. “He’s new to school, and my partner for a project in advanced skills.” Bulma turned to Vegeta. “Vegeta, this is my mother, Panchy Briefs.”

Mrs. Briefs beamed at Vegeta and held out her hand. Vegeta took it with an uncertain expression. “Uh… Thank you for having me in your home, Ma’am.”

Bulma barely kept her mouth from dropping open, seeing Vegeta be so polite. 

Mrs. Briefs tittered as they shook hands. “You’re most welcome, Vegeta dear. My, you’re in advanced with my daughter? So you’re smart as well as cute.”

“Mama!” Bulma cried out, appalled. Vegeta looked like he wanted to flee, color rising to his cheeks.

“And you’re in the fight club too, I see,” Mrs. Briefs continued unashamedly, commenting  on Vegeta’s fading bruises and cuts.

Bulma hastily answered. “Yes! With Goku and the others.” Her mother didn’t have to know that Vegeta hadn’t technically received his injuries from gym. Vegeta flashed Bulma a raised eyebrow, but didn’t call her out on the lie. 

“So Vegeta, are you single?” Mrs. Briefs inquired.

“MAMA!” Bulma shouted, standing up. She started pushing her mother out of her room. “We need to study now, thanks for visiting!”

Mrs. Briefs laughed. “Okay darling, I know you kids want your privacy. Are you hungry, shall I prepare a snack while you study?”

Bulma was about to say no just to get her mother to leave, but thought better of it. She was hungry, and Vegeta always seemed to be too, so she replied, “Yes, thanks. Can you make some dinner for us? We’re starving. Thanks, Mama. Now go.”

Mrs. Briefs grabbed the doorway before she could be pushed out and smiled at Vegeta. “Vegeta, honey, is there anything you’d care for? Do you have any allergies?” Vegeta shook his head, dumbstruck in the face of Mrs. Briefs’ motherly attention. “Alright then, I’ll whip something up for you two. Be back soon. Work hard!” Mrs. Briefs called to them, and with a final push, Bulma shoved her mother out and shut the door. 

Bulma glanced at Vegeta, embarrassed. “Sorry about that. She’s always been kinda kooky.” Vegeta grunted, saying nothing else about the matter, still looking embarrassed. Bulma sat back at the table, wishing away the blush on her cheeks. “Well, um, where were we?”

“Science-fiction capsules,” Vegeta grunted, not looking at her.

“Yes. I mean, no! It’s not science-fiction.”

They debated for a while about the possibility of capsule technology. Vegeta finally shot it down and said he’d rather invent armor that could stretch to be flexible in battle and fit any body type, but still be strong enough to resist weapons and attacks. “Now who is living in a sci-fi world?” Bulma snorted.

Their argument was finally broken up by Mrs. Briefs returning with their dinner. The food instantly caught Vegeta’s attention as he was unable to look away from the feast she had prepared for them. Their little table was quickly ladened by steaming hot chicken, mountains of roasted vegetables, and brown gravy. There was also cold water, juice and steaming hot buttered bread. Vegeta murmured his thanks to Mrs. Briefs, surprising Bulma once again with his ability to use manners.

As soon as Mrs. Briefs excused herself, Vegeta didn’t wait to be told to start eating. Bulma joined him and they happily consumed the delicious food. There was so much of it in fact that despite Vegeta’s best efforts, even he couldn’t finish all the meal. He glared angrily at the last bits of chicken, as if annoyed that he couldn’t find room in his belly for them. 

“You can take the left overs home,” Bulma suggested.

“Tch, what am I, a stray dog?” he said, looking away from the food as if it suddenly didn’t interest him anymore. Bulma sighed at his fickleness. “Your mom is pretty nice, even if she is a busy-body like you.” He announced as if to change the topic.

Bulma shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.” It occurred to her that she’d never heard Vegeta mention his mother. Not that he ever really spoke about his father, or anyone really, but Bulma at least knew that there _was_ a Mr. Saiyan. Did Vegeta even have a mother around? She bit her lip. She knew it would be impolite to ask. There was so much about Vegeta that she still didn’t know.

After dinner they returned to their school project. After more arguing and insults, they finally agreed on ‘inventing’ a polymer for improved gym clothing, something that would be comfortable to wear for training, and be supportive to muscles and joints while helping protect against impacts and injuries. ‘The ideal training gi’, Vegeta called it. They divided up tasks of who would research and write what, and by the time that was sorted, it was quite late in the evening.

Vegeta swung his backpack over his shoulder, wincing as it aggravated his ribs. “I should head home.”

Bulma saw him grimace and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Have you been taking the pain medication the doctor prescribed you?”

“Tch. I don’t need that crap.” Bulma glared at him. Vegeta scowled back. “The bruising is almost gone,” he said and lifted up his shirt to show her. Bulma caught a glimpse of ugly purple bruising on Vegeta’s slim yet muscled abdomen before she whipped her head around, outraged.

“Don’t show me that, you pervert!” she cried out, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks, her heart suddenly pounding loudly in her ears.

“Seriously? _You’re_ shy?” Vegeta asked, half shocked, half amused. “All your friends are male, and in MMA. Surely you’ve seen this before.”

“They don’t fight naked!” she protested, adding ‘usually’ in her mind. Bulma knew she was overreacting, she had indeed seen her male friends topless plenty of times, and had even appreciated seeing Yamcha topless more than once. But having Vegeta reveal himself when she was still conflicted about her feelings for him wasn’t doing her any favors. And this wasn’t the gym, this was her bedroom, and they were alone. It was too much.

Bulma heard Vegeta laugh. It was soft and low, a chuckle really, and it stirred something in her lower belly that made her blush even harder. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He had his hands crossed in front of his chest, giving her a smug smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Didn’t take you for a prude, Briefs,” he teased.

Oh great, Bulma kicked herself mentally. She’d given Vegeta something to torment her with, and he was jerk enough to know it, and use it. “I thought you were leaving,” she snapped back. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m out,” Vegeta replied, still smirking, and fixed his bag over his shoulder. “Later.”

“Hmph,” she said, turning up her nose and looking away from him, not trusting herself to even look at him right now without blushing hard.

She heard the door click closed and she looked to see her room empty. Bulma sighed, feeling the tension ease from her body. Her phone suddenly buzzed.

Bulma picked it up, seeing Vegeta had messaged her a little flexing emoji figure.

Bulma scowled. _Dick_ , she typed back.

_I don’t know you well enough to show you that._

Bulma felt her cheeks explode in heat. _YOU PERVERT. I’M TURNING MY DAMN PHONE OFF._

_No you won’t._

Bulma fumed and pressed the power button on her phone. Then she threw it onto the pile of cushions on the floor and stormed out of her room.

The next morning when she turned her phone on, Bulma was a little disappointed to find she hadn’t received a slew of messages from Vegeta. In fact, he hadn’t sent a single damn one. That’s when she realized she’d fallen into his trap - he’d wanted her to turn off her phone to spare himself from her usual barrage of texts. By turning off her phone, she’d only punished herself.

“Ugh! I hate him,” she grumbled at breakfast to the kitchen counter.

“Who do you hate, dear?” Mrs. Briefs asked sweetly.

“Men,” Bulma spat back, pushing her fruit about on her plate.

Mrs. Briefs beamed at her. “Sounds like someone likes someone.”

Bulma blushed furiously. “I do not, Mama! Didn’t you hear me? I hate him! He’s a jerk, a big, mean, annoying, smug, egotistical jerk!”

Mrs. Briefs tapped her lip, cocking her head. “Are you talking about Yamcha, dear?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Bulma grumbled, not replying. “If he thinks he’s so clever, he can make his own damn lunch,” she said to herself.

Mrs. Briefs left her alone to her own mumblings.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma ignored Vegeta all throughout advanced class. Or she would have if he bothered to pay her any attention. It was hard to ignore someone when they were ignoring you first. 

During PE she made a big show of hanging out with her friends, pointedly ignoring Vegeta, hoping to… well, she didn’t know what she was hoping to do. To make him jealous? Annoyed? She was still puzzling out her motivations when class ended. It was her turn to help put away the equipment in the sports shed out the back of the school yard.

She was carrying some balls outside to the storage shed when she met two boys coming from the opposite direction, smelling of cigarette smoke. One was broad, the other skinny and rattish. She tried to ignore them but the way their eyes lingered on her short gym outfit told her she was in for some trouble.

“Looking good, girl,” the broad one called out to her in a suggestive tone

Bulma scowled and ignored them, heading to the shed to deposit her equipment. When she turned to head out, she saw the two boys standing in the door, blocking her exit. Bulma felt a small flutter of fear.

“What do you want?” She asked testily, using anger to mask her fear.

“Hey, my friend here paid you a compliment. The least you could do is thank him,” the ratty boy said, leering at her.

Bulma glared at them both, saying nothing. 

“Aw, c’mon girl, don’t be like that,” the broad one cajoled. “Hey, you’re Bulma Briefs, right? I heard what happened to your boy in the toilets. So you’re single now, right?”

“Dream on,” Bulma spat, and tried to push past them. The ratty boy gently pushed her back inside the shed, not letting her out. The fear in her belly intensified. “Let me past, pea brains,” she snapped at them, her voice coming out too high. She fisted her hands to hide their trembling.

“Move,” a gruff, familiar voice instructed from behind the two bullies.

All three of them turned to look. Vegeta was standing there carrying an impressive amount of sports equipment in his arms. The two boys traded an uncertain glance, then moved to let Vegeta past. The ratty one stepped to the side so that he was still blocking in Bulma.

Vegeta walked by without even glancing at her. He dumped his load in the shed, then exited and started walking away.

“Vegeta…” Bulma called out to him in a small, helpless voice. She couldn’t believe he was just going to ignore her. Had he not seen her there?

Vegeta stopped. The two boys tensed, staring at him, waiting to see if he’d intervene.

A strained moment ticked passed. Then Vegeta spoke, his back to all of them. “I’ve been told not to get involved in fights.” And with that, he walked off.

Bulma’s mouth parted in disbelief as she watched him leave, betrayal stabbing her deeply. She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. Fearfully, she turned her gaze back on the two boys.

They smirked at her, sensing her fear and their victory.

“What say you, Briefs? Why not give us your number? We know how to treat a girl right,” the ratty boy said, placing his hand on Bulma’s waist and thumbing her hip possessively. It made her skin crawl.

Bulma felt her whole body flood with fear-fueled adrenalin. In a panic, she reacted before she could think her actions through. She punched the boy square in the nose.

He howled and staggered back, clutching his face. Once he got over the shock he glared at her, taking a threatening step forward.

With no help coming, Bulma knew she was going to have to get herself out of this one. She was no fighter, she was also no quitter. Bulma mustered up every ounce of anger and arrogant, entitled teenage strength she had, drawing herself up to full height as she pointed a finger at them.

“You’ll get out of my face _right this instant_ or I’m going to scream so bloody loud the whole school will come running out here. Then I’ll sue you both for sexual harassment until your families are so disgraced and bankrupted they’ll be begging on the streets for the next five generations. And if you continue to bother me, I might even hire someone to pay you a visit one night, when it’s dark and you’re alone, and _accidentally_ break your knees. I’m a Briefs, so you know I can do it with the spare change in my designer gym bag. Do I make myself clear, _boys_?”

The two boys stood stock still, letting the weight of her words sink in. They were pissed, the ratty one with the bruised nose especially, but they also looked worried, knowing she could easily carry out her threats. The Briefs fortune was no joking matter. The injured boy finally huffed and shoved her hard against the wall, knocking her down onto her butt.

“Bitch,” he spat, and the two walked off leaving her on the ground.

Bulma remained sitting on her backside for a few minutes, trying to calm down. She was trembling like a leaf, her anger quickly subsiding in the face of fear and relief.

After what felt like an eternity she pulled herself up on shaky legs and started walking slowly back towards the school. As she turned a corner, she nearly bumped into someone.

Vegeta was leaning against the wall, staring at his shoes. He cast her a sidelong look.

Seeing his face, Bulma saw red. She stomped up to him, planted her feet, and slapped him hard across the face. Vegeta took it without even attempting to stop her. Bulma glared at him, still trembling from her ordeal. 

“Feel better?” he asked her flatly.

“You just _left me_ with them!” she said, her voice low, shaking with rage. 

“And?”

“How _could you_?” she asked, feeling unbidden tears rise.

Vegeta said nothing in his defense, just staring at her somberly.

“You jerk!” she shouted, and hit his shoulder as tears started to fall. Vegeta took the abuse without complaint. “Some friend you are!”

“You’re the one who insists we’re friends, not me.” 

Bulma hit his shoulder again, and again. “You asshole! I can’t believe you would abandon me like that. I was… I was so scared,” she confessed, curling her fingers in Vegeta’s shirt and to her horror she started sobbing.

“Yet you handled it, all by yourself,” he pointed out calmly, undaunted by her tears.

Bulma cried, taking a while to process his words. She wiped at her eyes and finally looked up at him, hurt and confused.

He met her gaze unflinchingly, then gave her a small smile. “You handled them better than I would have given you credit for. You’re pretty feisty when cornered.”

Bulma stared at him in disbelief. As the initial panic wore off, she started putting the pieces together. She thought Vegeta had abandoned her to the nasty boys, but he hadn’t really left her, he’d been around the corner the whole time. Close enough to intervene if need be. 

He’d given her the chance to save herself, and she had.

She still wasn’t ready to forgive him. Bulma pulled herself together, mustering her fiercest scowl yet. “You still could have helped!”

Vegeta folded his arms. “You’re the one who said I should stay out of trouble.”

“Not at the expense of my safety!” Bulma shouted back, feeling better to be fighting rather than crying. 

“You weren’t in any danger,” Vegeta told her scathingly. 

“Well I’m glad you were so sure of that, because I had no idea! I thought they were going to rape me!” Bulma spat back.

The lunch bell rang, interrupting their fight.

Bulma gave Vegeta one more glare, then flipped her hair over her shoulder and started walking off to change out of her PE uniform. Vegeta followed a few paces behind. Before she could enter the gym, Vegeta slapped his hand across the doorway, blocking her entrance. Bulma glared at him. “What now?” She snapped at him, still feeling emotionally shaken and raw.

Vegeta glared back at her, only inches away. For a moment Bulma was’t sure what he was going to do, but then he lowered his arm and took her hand in his. She tried to yank it away, but he tightened his grip and tugged her closer so that he could see her hand better.

“Keep still,” he snapped at her, and Bulma stopped struggling. Vegeta ran his thumb over her knuckles, and then put pressure on them. “Does this hurt?” he asked.

Bulma winced and nodded, biting her lip in pain. “Ow, yes.”

“Make a fist,” he told her, and she did. Vegeta grunted. “It’s not likely broken. You should get some ice on it though so it doesn’t swell.”

Bulma just stared at their hands, unable to bring herself to look at him. His hand was so much bigger than hers, his skin tanner, his own knuckles roughed up from fighting. He ran his thumb over her knuckles one last time before letting her go. Bulma felt something break inside of her as he did.

“I’d never let them hurt you,” he said gruffly, looking away.

Bulma swallowed thickly. “Why?” He looked back at her and she met his gaze. “We’re not even friends, remember. So why would you even care?” She pushed past him and went inside the locker rooms to change, leaving Vegeta behind.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_AN:_

_Uguu :(_

 


	7. 07 - Friends (w FANART)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.07 - Friends**

 

After she’d changed out of her sports uniform from the sports shed incident, Bulma spent lunch with her friends. She barely touched her food, icing her hand with an ice pack she’d obtained from the school nurse. She continued to drift through classes for the rest of the day, feeling lost and hollow. She walked home without paying her surroundings any attention and spent the evening in front of the TV, binge eating and watching romantic Korean dramadies, crying way too much over the sappy stories.

She went to bed and stared at her phone for what must have been an hour, but she didn’t get any messages. 

The next day at school, Vegeta had new bruises. Bulma made eye contact with him as she entered class. Vegeta looked away first, saying nothing. Bulma swallowed down her own feelings and sat at her desk, offering him nothing back.

At lunch in the cafeteria she was once again quiet and detached. She saw her friends were flashing her worried looks, but she couldn’t bring herself to fake a cheeriness she didn’t feel for their sakes. 

“Are you coming to practice, Bulma?” Goku asked her.

Bulma shook her head. “I’ve got a lot of homework.” 

Her friends all exchanged glances, but no one called her out on her lie despite knowing that Bulma rarely had homework as she could finish her work before the teacher could finish assigning it. Bulma went home after school and waited. Vegeta was supposed to come to her house to work on their project after MMA training, but after their spat, she didn’t know whether to expect him or not. She finally gave up waiting two hours after practice should have finished. Bulma went to bed clutching a pillow to her chest, wondering why it hurt so much to lose someone she hardly knew.

The next day Chi-Chi arrived at her house to walk her to school. When Bulma met her, Chi-Chi blanched. “Goodness, Bulma, you look awful.”

Bulma sighed. “Gee, thanks, Chi-Chi.”

Chi-Chi put a hand on her hip. “Look, Bulma. What’s wrong? You’ve been super mopey lately, and clearly you didn’t get much sleep last night. I thought you were over Yamcha.”

“I am,” Bulma replied, then amended. “I mean, this isn’t about him.”

Chi-Chi raised her brows. “Is this about the new boy you mentioned before? The one you weren’t even sure you liked?”

Bulma looked down at her shoes, kicking a stone out of the path. “We kind of had a fight.”

“You fight with everyone,” Chi-Chi stated matter-of-factly.

“No, a _real_ fight,” Bulma stressed. 

Chi-Chi looked dubious. “Well, did you apologize?”

Bulma stiffened. “ _Me_? It was _his_ fault.”

Chi-Chi arched a brow at her friend. “Oh? What did he do?” 

“He…” Bulma trailed off, frowning. What had Vegeta done? “He’s… a total jerk. He didn’t help me when… well, he said he _could_ have if it came to that, but he didn’t and he made me help myself… Okay, that didn’t come out right, just trust me, it was bad… Don’t look at me like that, Chi Chi. Anyway, he said we weren’t friends, but we clearly were, I mean, what else do you call it when you’re always texting and eating lunch together and… and now he won’t even talk to me…” Bulma trailed off, not sure where she was going with her rant.

“He said you weren’t friends?” Chi-Chi repeated.

Bulma nodded.

“In those actual words?”

Bulma hesitated. “Well… maybe not _those_ words exactly, but that was the implication.”

“Mm-hmm,” Chi Chi replied, sounding skeptical. “And what did you say?”

Bulma kicked another stone. “I said, um… that he shouldn’t bother caring about me if we’re not friends.”

Chi-Chi shook her head slowly at her friend. “So you basically broke up with him?”

“I… No!” Bulma protested.

“That’s what it sounds like,” Chi-Chi replied with a nonchalant shrug. 

Bulma bit her lip. “… Really?”

Chi-Chi nodded. “And it probably sounded like that to him too. If he’s not talking to you, it’s probably because he thinks he’s respecting your wishes.”

Bulma frowned, not ready to accept responsibility for her stalemate with Vegeta. “I doubt it, he doesn’t seem the type to respect other people’s wishes…. Anyway, why do I have to be the one who always makes the first move?”

“Because if he’s anything like the other guys you’ve been interested in, this guy is emotionally handicapped and as stubborn or more so than you are,” Chi-Chi told her frankly.

Bulma made a face. “Jeez, you’re being harsh.”

“Yep, but you’re a big girl, Bulma, you can handle it. And you need to hear it. If you’re this torn up over losing his friendship, then it sounds to me that you’re not willing to let him go yet. If that’s the case, you need to be the bigger person and try to mend the damage.”

Bulma sighed, aggravated. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, grumpy that Chi-Chi wasn’t taking her side more. “How was practice?” she asked to change the topic.

“The usual,” Chi-Chi said. 

“What about the new guy?” Bulma asked carefully, hoping she was being subtle.

“Vegeta? Not much there. He’s still sitting out, injured. And he’s not very social. He was just staring at his phone the whole time.”

“His phone?” Bulma inquired, looking intently at her friend. “Why? Was he texting someone?”

Chi-Chi shook her head. “No, he was just looking at the lock screen. I thought he was watching a movie at first, but then I later saw that the screen was off. I guess he was expecting an important call.”

_Or a text._

Bulma looked away to hide her guilty expression from Chi-Chi. Inwardly her heart was shattering, imaging Vegeta waiting all practice for an olive branch from her that never came. Vegeta might be the world’s biggest asshole, but she was the world’s biggest bitch.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

When lunch came it was raining. Bulma hadn’t prepared a lunchbox, so she went to the cafeteria and bought two lunch trays before heading up onto the roof. 

She opened the door and almost didn’t see him. He wasn’t sitting in his usual spot, instead he was huddled by the door, sat under a small awning to get what little shelter he could from the rain. Bulma closed the door and stood before him awkwardly.

Vegeta frowned and put his gameboy down, saying nothing, eyes downcast. 

Bulma fidgeted with her trays of food. She held the bigger one out to him. “I didn’t have time to make a lunchbox…” she said, her voice trailing off.

Vegeta raised his eyes enough to see the tray. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t take it. Then he reached out and begrudgingly accepted the food.

Bulma hesitated before sitting down next to him. They both clutched their trays, neither eating, huddled miserably under the small awning to stay dry.

“You didn’t come over to study last night,” Bulma said softly to break the awkward silence. The rain pelted down hard. It narrowed their world down to just the two of them, blocking everything else out.

Vegeta’s fingers flexed on his tray. He sighed through his nose and put the tray down. “What do you want?”

Bulma cleared her throat nervously. “Well, we need to work on our class project-”

“No,” he stopped her. “What do you want from _me_ , Bulma?” He cast her a sidelong look, then stared back at his food. “I can’t offer you anything.”

“That’s not true,” Bulma protested. “I iced my hand like you told me too, and it felt a lot better. See,” she showed him the hand she’d punched the ratty boy with. Her knuckles were still bruised, but there was no swelling thanks to her having taken his advice.

Vegeta looked at her hand, then dared to finally look at her. His brow furrowed at the sight of her. “You look like shit.”

Bulma scowled petulantly. “I wish everyone would stop telling me that. It’s rude.”

The corner of Vegeta’s mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. “Well stop making us look at your ugly face.”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open, rendered temporarily speechless. “I… You… How _dare_ you. I am _not_ ugly, I’m fucking adorable! Like you can talk, you’re all busted up again. So much for not getting involved in fighting.”

“Whatever,” Vegeta said nonchalantly, ignoring her to pick up his tray and start eating.

“Why… you… Don’t ignore me, you dick!”

“Brat,” he countered around a mouthful of food, not even looking at her.

“Jerk!” She spat back.

“Entitled princess.”

“Asshole!”

“Friend.”

“Wh-what?” Bulma spluttered, shocked, unsure if she’d heard right.

Vegeta didn’t repeat himself, putting another forkful of food into his mouth. Bulma watched him for a solid minute, letting his confession sink in. Her heart was pounding too fast, too loud. She finally leaned back against the wall and started eating her own lunch to hide her astonishment.

Vegeta picked up the brownie on his tray and placed it on hers. When she gave him a questioning look, Vegeta just said, “You’re too skinny.”

Bulma felt her lip tremble. She clutched her fork hard to fight back tears, and she let out a small, trembling laugh of relief. “Th-thank you,” she croaked.

He grunted at her, the sound soft and kind.

She could hardly keep a smile off her face the rest of lunch. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to be talking to Vegeta once more. When they were finished eating, Bulma asked him about his game system. Vegeta showed it to her and for the rest of break he played while she watched, leaning her cheek against his arm to get a better view of the small screen as the rain continued to fall around them.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 _Do you have any plans this weekend_? [Smiley face] [sun]

_Why?_

_You should come over. We need to work on our project._ [Thumbs up] [book] [computer]

_When?_

_How’s tomorrow sound? If you get here early, my mom can cook you breakfast_. [Winky face] [food icon]

 _Can’t. Running_. 

 _Afterwards then. Brunch?_ [food icon] [food icon] [food icon] [food icon] [food icon] [food icon].

_Fine._

_Yay!_ [Happy face] [streamers]

Bulma grinned, elated when Vegeta accepted her invitation. If she got her way, and she usually did, she’d have the whole day with Vegeta. Perhaps she could actually crack the hard shell he kept about himself and learn a little more about him.

She woke up the next morning and told her mother to prepare a lavish brunch. Then Bulma went about showering and doing her hair and spending far too much time choosing an outfit to wear. She settled on some short shorts and a red tube top. Cute but casual. Bulma looked at herself in the mirror as she applied bright red lipstick and suddenly stopped herself short.

“… What are you doing?” she whispered to herself. She was preparing as if for a date. Bulma grabbed a tissue and wiped the lipstick off her lips. She looked in the mirror once more, pointing a stern finger at herself. “Get it together, girl. He’s just your study partner.”

The doorbell rang, and Bulma hurried down to answer, but Mrs. Briefs beat her to the punch.

“My, my Vegeta, don’t you look _handsome_ this morning!” Mrs. Briefs fawned as she let Vegeta in. Bulma came skipping down the stairs to see Vegeta scowling, looking askance and blushing at Mrs. Briefs words. 

“Mama!” Bulma chided, but she couldn’t help agreeing with her mother’s words. Vegeta was dressed in dark blue jeans and a charcoal black button up shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. It was the nicest and most fitted thing he’d worn yet. Bulma almost missed a step drinking in the sight of him. She was starting to regret having taken her make-up off.

Vegeta looked up upon hearing her voice. Bulma watched him eye her from head to toe, then look away. He had a plastic bag in his hand which he handed over to Mrs. Briefs.

“Oh, what’s this?” the older woman twittered excitedly.

“A pie,” Vegeta mumbled. 

“Oh Vegeta, that’s so sweet of you. Why don’t you put your bag in Bulma’s room, then you two come on down and eat. Brunch is almost ready.” Mrs. Briefs left the entry way and headed to the kitchen. Vegeta glanced over at Bulma again.

Bulma put a fist on her hip. “Are you trying to woo my mother?” she teased.

“Tch,” Vegeta replied and headed up the stairs towards her. “It’s only polite to bring something when you’re a guest.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of you. ‘Polite’.” 

“Cute,” Vegeta replied in a droll voice. “You’re a regular comedian.”

They headed to her room to dump his backpack. Bulma noticed that Vegeta’s hair was still damp and he smelt of soap. He must have come over fresh from a shower after his morning run. It took a lot of willpower to not let images of ‘Vegeta’ and ‘shower’ derail her train of thought to someplace inappropriate. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, giving her a clear view of his forearms. They looked thick and powerful, and scared.  Bulma wondered how he’d gotten them all.

With bags out of the way, they headed down to the kitchen where Mrs. Briefs had set up a lavish brunch. There were all kinds of delicious looking food laid out - various sweet and savory breads, waffles, fruit, jams, cooked eggs, slabs of steaming ham, bacon and sausage, mixed juices, teas, coffee and in the center, Vegeta’s pie.

“Mm, Mama, this looks lovely,” Bulma declared as she sat down. Vegeta took a seat next to her, eyeing the food with a strange, pained look on his face. 

Mrs. Briefs beamed at them. “Well, eat up!”

Vegeta didn’t need telling twice. He took a bit of everything, especially the meat products, until his plate was piled high with enough food to feed three people. He and Bulma started eating, not bothering with small talk when there was fresh, delicious food to be eaten.

“Morning!” a chipper male voice called.

Vegeta nearly choked on his food. He stood up at attention, swallowing his mouthful as Bulma’s father wandered over to join them. “Morning, Sir,” Vegeta greeted stiffly. Bulma arched a brow at Vegeta. 

Dr. Briefs glanced at Vegeta with a friendly smile. “Morning, son. You must be Vegeta. Hakase Briefs, pleasure,” Dr. Briefs introduced himself, holding out a hand to Vegeta.

Vegeta shook it respectfully. “Vegeta Saiyan, Sir.”

“Vegeta Saiyan, huh?” Dr. Briefs let Vegeta’s hand go to stroke his mustache. “So it must be your father who took over the new Lieutenant General position under General Cold, is that correct?”

Bulma’s eyes grew big, surprised by the information. Vegeta nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Planning on signing up when you come of age?”

Bulma noticed Vegeta’s hands fisting at his sides. “That’s yet to be determined, Sir.”

Dr. Briefs nodded, taking a seat. “Good boy. Consider all your options first. Please, don’t let me interrupt your meal.”

Vegeta sat back down and continued eating. Bulma threw him an uncertain, sideways glance, but Vegeta didn’t look at her so she turned her attention onto her father. “How do you know about the military, Papa?” she asked.

Dr. Briefs opened a newspaper as Mrs. Briefs poured him a coffee. “The appointment was big news at the company. The military always comes over every few months and poke about, trying to get me to invent things for them. It’s good to know who I need to politely refuse,” he winked at his daughter.

“Vegeta brought over a pie,” Mrs. Briefs told her husband, deftly changing the subject. She smiled at Vegeta. “Did your mother make it, honey?”

Bulma froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Vegeta didn’t miss a beat. “No, ma’am. My mother passed away when I was young. The pie is from the bakery.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Briefs said, raising a hand to her mouth. “My condolences. Me and my big mouth.”

Bulma looked at Vegeta, but he was still eating, seemingly unconcerned by the topic of his dead mother. Bulma glared back at her parents. “Sorry about my folks and their _intrusive_ questions,” she gritted out, directing her scathing tone at her parents.

“Now now, Bulma, we’re just being sociable,” Dr. Briefs defended, still looking at the newspaper.

“It’s fine,” Vegeta told her, giving Bulma a heavy look.

Bulma felt her cheeks redden and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. If she was the only one uncomfortable then there was no reason to be making such a fuss. She went back to eating her food.

Dr. and Mrs. Briefs chit-chatted about inane daily life while Bulma and Vegeta ate their meal. Vegeta made impressive work of his plate, finishing everything and reaching for seconds.

“My, you have a healthy appetite, Vegeta. Just like Goku, don’t you think, Bulma sweety?” Mrs. Briefs asked her daughter.

Bulma shrugged, feeling the sudden burning gaze of Vegeta on her at the mention of Goku coming over to eat. She was saved by her father.

“So what are you two up to today?” Dr. Briefs asked.

“Working on a school project mostly,” Bulma explained as she sipped her coffee.

“Nice, nice,” Dr. Briefs replied, only half listening.

Bulma put her cup down but in doing so, accidentally knocked Vegeta’s spoon off the table. She leant down to pick it up at the same as Vegeta did, and they hit heads.

“Ouch!”

“Tch!”

“Your head is as hard as a boulder!” Bulma complained, rubbing her brow.

“And your head is as big as one,” Vegeta grumbled back, rubbing his.

Mrs. Briefs laughed. “It’s good to see you two get along so well.”

Bulma and Vegeta glared at each other, then Bulma stood up. “Come on, rock head, our research isn’t going to study itself.”

“I’m not finished,” Vegeta replied stubbornly, staying seated to grab more ham.

Bulma made an agitated sound. “How much more can you _possibly_ eat?”

Vegeta didn’t answer her, too busy angrily shoveling food into his mouth.

Bulma threw up her hands and sat back down, waiting impatiently for Vegeta to finish. 

Ten minutes later, during which Bulma gave Vegeta her best dagger-filled look to hurry up, and he deftly ignored, they finally headed up to her room to study. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma had her laptop open to her left, paper to her right. She was writing down notes when she suddenly got the feeling she was being watched. She glanced up and saw Vegeta staring at her.

“What?” 

“You were humming,” he said, still looking at her with intense, black eyes. Bulma couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused. 

“Oh, I was?” Bulma asked, unaware. She’d been in the zone; she took after her father that way, easily getting absorbed in her work. 

Bulma put her pencil down and stretched her arms up above her head. She checked the time. She and Vegeta had been working for a solid couple of hours. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned over to peer at Vegeta’s work. “How’s it coming?”

Vegeta gave her a lingering glance, then let his gaze slide back at his work. “You know I can see down your top when you lean over like that.”

Bulma sat bolt right up, blushing. She pursed her lips, crossing her arms defiantly, taking on a haughty pose. “So? I have a gorgeous body, it would be a crime not to show it off.”

Vegeta turned off the tablet Bulma had leant him for researching. He smirked at her, saying nothing.

Bulma could feel the heat in her cheeks grow worse by the second. Vegeta’s dark eyes were dancing with wicked amusement, laughing at some secret jest only he knew. Bulma finally grabbed a pillow from the ground and threw it at him. “Pervert.”

Vegeta dodged the throw easily. “You’re the one dressed like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for the next virile male to come along and fuck you.”

Bulma spluttered with rage. “I… I’m… not! Maybe you’re projecting your own sick fantasies onto me.”

Vegeta snorted. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Bulma threw another pillow at him. “Asshole.” Vegeta easily deflected the pillow, but the gesture caused him to twist, and Bulma saw the wince he made as he did so. “Do your ribs still hurt?” she asked, her tone softer, concerned. Vegeta shrugged, the hint of his smile fading. Bulma knew he didn’t really like talking about his injuries, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from prying. “If you need to get checked out again, my family has-”

“It’s fine, rib injuries just take a while to heal,” Vegeta said firmly, clearly wanting to end the discussion there.

Bulma sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, well, you would know,” she said, remembering how the doctor had pointed out that this wasn’t Vegeta’s first time with a fractured rib.

Vegeta gave her a dark look, not liking her suggestive tone.

Bulma pulled up her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “Why do you push yourself so hard? Would it hurt to take some time off to rest?”

Vegeta scowled, looking down at his notes. His jaw clenched, then relaxed. “I have to get stronger,” he said, his voice oddly subdued.

“Why?”

“Strength is power.”

Bulma cocked her head. “Knowledge too.”

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder. “Yes, that does help, but I’ve never seen a brain beat a bicep.”

Bulma scrunched her nose. “That sounds so barbaric.”

“Says the girl who punched someone when in trouble,” Vegeta dryly pointed out.

Bulma blushed, unable to deny his statement. “Yes, well, it was by still using _words_ that got me out of that situation.”

Vegeta looked at her unflinchingly. “No, it was _threats_. The threat of your money and influence being better than theirs. As I said, strength is power.”

Bulma scowled, thinking his words over. Vegeta seemed obsessed with being strong, in every iteration of the word. Then she perked up, getting an idea. “So, to get strong, do you go to a gym?”

Vegeta looked at her, surprised by her shift in questioning. “No. Too expensive.”

Bulma grinned. Vegeta frowned at her, suspicious as she jumped to her feet. “Come on,” she urged, holding out her hand. Vegeta narrowed his eyes further, but he took her hand and stood up. “This way,” she urged. She made sure Vegeta couldn’t pull his hand away, curling her fingers tightly around his and leading him out of her room. He followed after her, and after a few moments of hesitation, twined his fingers in with hers.

Bulma felt her heart skip a beat.

She led him through the house until they at last came upon a large doorway. Bulma reluctantly let Vegeta’s hand go and leaned up against the door, facing him with a knowing smirk. “How much do you like me?” she asked him smugly.

“What?” he snapped, not amused.

“On a scale of 1 to 10?” Bulma insisted.

Vegeta sneered at her, folding his arms. “Minus 5.”

Bulma pouted. “Rude.”

Vegeta smirked. “Take it as a compliment. I would rate most people as much lower.”

“Gee, I feel so _honored_ ,” Bulma snarked back. She stuck her nose up. “Well, I only let friends with a rating of 7 or higher into my _gym_.”

Vegeta’s arms fell to his side. “…What?”

“Want to change your answer?”

“Out of my way,” he said, and shoved her to the side by her waist. Bulma cried out, outraged at his manhandling as Vegeta opened the door, letting himself in.

“How dare you!” Bulma spat, stomping her foot on the ground. Vegeta ignored her as he took in the sight of the large, fully equipped gym. His eyes grew big in surprise, staring at all the equipment. It was big enough to train an entire football team at once. Two teams even.

“It’s bigger than my whole house,” he murmured in awe.

Bulma pushed her way around him, standing before him with her arms folded. “Well take a good long look because it’s the last time you’ll see it!” she said angrily.

Vegeta’s eyes snapped to her, scowling. “Like hell. You can’t show me this and then expect me not to use it.”

“And how do you propose to get in?” Bulma asked him haughtily.

Vegeta smirked. “Bet your mom will let me in.”

Bulma cringed, knowing it to be true. “I’ll put a finger print reader on the door.”

“You wouldn’t,” Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her.

“I would!” she said firmly. “In fact, I’ll do it _right now_ ,” she brushed past him.

Vegeta reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

Bulma stopped, looking over her shoulder at him.

Vegeta seemed to be struggling with something internally. He finally looked up at her, his expression pained. “What do you want in return for using this gym?” he gritted out.

Bulma smirked, victorious, until she realized she had no idea what she wanted from Vegeta, she’d only wanted to beat him at their verbal game. She looked at him, his surly face still mottled with bruises and cuts from his latest beating, his eyes dancing with uncertainty, vulnerability, at what he’d have to give up in order to have access to her gym. She had him in the palm of her hand, and she felt awful for it.

She sighed, tension leaving her body. “Nothing, Vegeta. You can use it whenever you like,” she grumbled, looking away. What a push over she was.

Vegeta didn’t answer right away. He was still holding her wrist. “Won’t your parents care?”

Bulma shrugged, still not looking at him. “No, they never use it, I only use the elliptical occasionally. The guys from the MMA team come over sometimes, but otherwise it’s just going to waste. You may as well make the most of it.”

Vegeta let go of her wrist. Bulma looked over at him and she caught something vulnerable in his gaze, but he looked away before she could put her finger on what it was. He stared at the gym for a while. When he turned back around, his expression was impassive, like he’d just bottled something up.

“I’m thirsty,” he announced, his voice gruff, his eyes not meeting hers.

“There’s drinks here… Oh, but they’re not cold,” Bulma said, remembering they never kept the refrigerators plugged in as the gym was so rarely utilized. “Well, kitchen’s this way,” she announced, and lead them out of the gym.

Once in the kitchen, Bulma pulled out two bottles of cold water and handed one to Vegeta. His hand touched hers as he accepted the drink. “Thanks,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it.

Bulma nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Vegeta’s fingers slid over hers; it was the tiniest contact, but his touch was electric. Then his hand was gone and he turned to take a drink.

Bulma hastily opened her own water, hiding a furious blush behind her bottle. How ever was she going to survive the rest of the day with Vegeta when he was having this kind of effect on her? She watched him skull his water down in seconds, his head tilted back, his bicep flexed as he held up his drink to his mouth, his throat bobbing enticingly with each gulp. He gasped as he finished his water, then looked at her with a raised brow, curious as to why she was staring. 

 _I’m doomed_.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

... Art by [Rut Bisbe](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com/)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/RutBisbe_Friends_WaterLooks_zpscit6jiqm.jpg.html)

 

 **_AN:_ ** _Aren’t we all, Bulma, aren’t we all._

_Thanks everyone who reads and reviews and favorites and all that jazz, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me. Be sure to let me know your thoughts on this chapter!_

_Next chapter in a few days!_

_Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own DBZ characters - they belong to Akira Toriyama, Funimation and Toei Animation as far as I know._


	8. 08 - Broken

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.08 - Broken**

 

The rest of Bulma and Vegeta’s afternoon together wasn’t terribly productive, but what it lacked in productivity it made up for in fun. They got in some research for their school project before they soon became distracted looking up videos, and arguing about movies. To settle their debate about which was the worst action movie ever, they put on one of the contenders to watch.

“Do you mind?” Vegeta asked, glaring down at Bulma’s feet that she’d put in his lap.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“ _Feet_ go on the _floor_ ,” Vegeta told slowly, her as if she were simple.

“They’re clean,” Bulma protested, wriggling her perfectly pedicured toes at him. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“For you.”

“Exactly,” she grinned at him.

Vegeta huffed, unamused. He grabbed her big toe, lifting her foot off his lap. It tickled. Bulma bucked and squealed in laughter. “D-don’t!” she protested.

Vegeta froze. Her eyes met his. Then Vegeta’s face split into a wicked grin, and Bulma forgot how to breathe. In that moment, she knew she was done for.

Vegeta pounced, grabbing both her feet and started tickling them. Bulma wailed with laughter, squirming and hitting Vegeta ineffectually, trying to pull herself free. “S-stop, stop it!” she wailed between bouts of laughter, tears of mirth running from the corners of her eyes. 

Vegeta tickled her in an especially sensitive spot. Bulma’s leg lashed out against her will, kicking Vegeta in the chest. She heard his soft ‘oof’, followed by an, “Ow, fuck.” He let her go to clutch his ribs.

“Vegeta, oh god, I’m sorry,” Bulma said, sitting up and leaning over Vegeta, worried she’d inflicted serious harm upon him. She touched his arm gently.

As soon as she did, Vegeta grabbed her wrist and pushed her down onto the couch. He straddled her, smirking down at her, his arms pinning her wrists above her head. “Just for that kick, I’ll be showing you no mercy.”

“It was an accident!” Bulma protested, but Vegeta was having none of it. His fingers dug into her sides, and Bulma squealed as he tickled her ruthlessly. She tried to buck him off, but he was immovable.

“Un-cle…!” Bulma gasped, writhing, begging for quarter.

Vegeta leaned over her, still pinning her down, smirking at her evilly. “Say ‘pretty please’.”

“Can’t… breathe…!”

“You can beg better than that.”

“V-Vegeta!” Bulma cried out, half laughing, half crying as Vegeta’s wicked fingers sent waves of ticklish pleasure throughout her body. “P-please stop, hahaha… I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he purred, his voice sounding deep, husky.

Bulma thought she was going to pass out if he tickled her much longer. She nodded breathlessly.

Vegeta leaned in and kissed her.

His mouth was warm and firm. She moaned, her eyes falling closed. Already lightheaded, Bulma found all her air being stolen by his kiss, lights sparkling before her eyes. She melted underneath him and she stopped struggling, kissing him back.

After a last, lingering kiss, Vegeta broke the contact, pulling back. Bulma made a small, plaintive sound of disapproval as he pulled away. He searched her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. Bulma could feel a blush on her cheeks, her lips parted as she panted, breathless, struggling to let her mind catch up to what had happened. He was still looking at her when all she wanted him to do was kiss her again.

“What’s that?” she asked suddenly, nodding at his top.

Vegeta looked down, confused. He let go of her hands to inspect his shirt. “What?”

“This,” she said and fisted her hand in his top, tugging him down for another searing kiss. She felt him smirk against her mouth, and she grinned back.

“Think you’re clever, huh?” he teased.

“I _am_ a genius,” she purred back.

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make me.”

Vegeta kissed her and she greedily accepted it, fisting her fingers into his shirt and pulling his firm body close against hers.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

After making out for who knew how long, they finally broke apart and cuddled up on the couch, continuing their movie marathon. Vegeta spooned her from behind and Bulma made sure she was pressed as tightly against him as she could possible get. She couldn’t believe that he’d kissed her or that he was now cuddling her, one hand laying casually on her hip, the other propping up his head to watch the TV. Bulma couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been fooling herself all this time, trying to ignore how much she really liked Vegeta. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted him until he’d kissed her, and it had felt like perfection.  

It felt so impossibly safe, so good and warm to be next to him that she didn’t even remember falling asleep in his arms.

Bulma woke to the feeling of someone stroking her hair. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the room was only half lit, the dusky light of sunset barely seeping through the curtains. She had rolled over, her face pressed into Vegeta’s chest. He was watching her sleep. She blushed, feeling grateful the dim light would hide her rosy cheeks.

“I fell asleep?”

Vegeta brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I told you that movie’s second half blew.”

“What time is it?”

“Time for me to head home,” Vegeta said regretfully.

Bulma frowned, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “… Don’t?”

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “Don’t what?”

“Go,” Bulma asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “Stay with me?”

Vegeta’s hand stilled. He hesitated to answer, looking away from her. “I don’t think I should… Your parents…”

“They don’t care. They’re totally clueless, they have their own things to worry about. They probably think you’ve already gone.”

Vegeta looked unconvinced. “I have a curfew.”

“You can break it, can’t you?” Bulma begged. “You did before when you came to warn me.”

Vegeta was silent a while, thinking, his brow softly furrowed. Bulma waited with baited breath. What they had was so new and precarious, she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. 

Vegeta finally looked back up at her, drinking in the sight of her face in the waning light. He sighed. “Fine,” he relented. His hand started petting her hair again.

Bulma sighed contentedly, appeased, and buried her face against his chest once more. She enjoyed the sensation of his fingers in her hair, the musky scent of him in her nose, and the hard warmth of his body against hers.

Bulma hummed as Vegeta’s fingers started wandering, moving down her throat, skimming over her shoulder, along her arm. He moved his fingers to her waist, tracing little circles against her hip and belly. The sensation caused her skin to prickle with goosebumps, and Bulma had to bite her lip against the ticklish sensation.

“You’re pretty sensitive,” he remarked, his voice sounding amused.

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” she warned him, although her voice was more breathless than threatening.

“Why would I get any ideas?” he teased back, his fingers starting to slip beneath the waistband of her shorts.

Bulma shivered in delight. Then she grabbed his hand and put it back on her hip. “You need to be good if you want to stay.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to stay,” he reminded her. “I’ve never been great at being good.”

“Never too late to start,” she murmured.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked her, leaning in to nuzzle her hair by her ear. “Or are you secretly hoping I’ll shove you down and have my wicked way with you?”

Bulma blushed furiously, Vegeta’s words holding more truth than she cared to admit. She glared at him to hide her embarrassment. “Just try it, and I’ll scream bloody murder.”

“Blood doesn’t bother me.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

He smirked but didn’t try anything. They lay in silence together for a few more minutes, Vegeta’s fingers still gently stroking her hip. Then he sat up, stretching. “I’m hungry. Go get me some food.”

“Get it yourself, I’m comfortable,” Bulma complained, stretching out to take the warm spot Vegeta had created.

“And run into your mother?” Vegeta asked with a raised brow.

Bulma thought about that. As liberal as her parents were, it would probably still be safer that her mother and father didn’t know that Vegeta was spending the night. Bulma sighed and sat up. “Okay, okay, I’ll get some food.”

Bulma quietly fetched dinner for them. They ate together in her room on the couch, and they marathoned more martial art movies.

Bulma must have fallen asleep again, as the next thing she knew she was being picked up by strong arms and carried over to her bed. She nuzzled Vegeta’s neck sleepily. “I can walk… Your ribs…” she protested softly.

Vegeta scoffed. “Like you’re heavy enough to trouble my ribs. Besides, we’re here.” He lay her down on the bed, and Bulma curled up, opening her eyes enough to look at him. Vegeta stood, looming over her, looking back down at her as she nestled under the covers.

She could make out his silhouette in the dark. Through sleep laden eyes, she didn’t see a boy but a man, hard and powerful and entirely focused on her. Bulma felt a thrill of sensual excitement, followed by a large bout of nerves.

Vegeta toed off his socks then unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. He grabbed the collar and lifted the shirt off in one easy, practiced motion. Bulma bit her lip as Vegeta’s torso was revealed to her in the inky, moonlit room.

He was perfect; lean but muscular, every part of him well defined from his biceps, to his chest, to his belly. Bulma had always had a healthy appreciation of the male form, and Vegeta’s was the best she’d ever seen. The only imperfections were his scars and bruises from past and recent fights.

Vegeta left his jeans on and lay down on the bed, staying above the covers. He lay on his side so that he could face her. Bulma snuggled up to him and ran her fingers lightly over his chest, tracing his scars and mottled bruises. The more her fingers wandered, the more imperfections she encountered, each one breaking her heart just a little more. What kind of life had Vegeta suffered at such a young age? All she’d ever endured seemed so childish and trivial now in comparison. How spoilt did she look in his eyes? Bulma was surprised Vegeta put up with her at all.

Bulma’s hand reached Vegeta’s lower belly, tracing along the lines of his abdominals. He was magnificent. Vegeta hissed, grabbing her hand to still it.

Bulma’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” she asked, worried she’d pressed on a wound.

Vegeta shook his head. “The opposite,” he said, his voice almost a growl with how husky it was. Bulma blushed, realizing the effect she was having on him. 

She gave him a coy little smirk, pleased that she could affect him. “Guess you’re sensitive too.”

“I have my limits, Bulma,” he replied gruffly, and Bulma tried not to melt at the way he said her name. He pulled the blanket over her more tightly, keeping himself separated, a physical barrier between them as if he didn’t trust himself otherwise.

“Wait, I’m not comfortable,” Bulma complained, and started fidgeting under the blanket.

Vegeta grunted as she wriggled about. “What the hell are you doing?”

A moment later, Bulma produced her shorts and tossed them to the floor.

Vegeta watched them land, then looked back at Bulma with raised brows. “You’d better pray you still have something on under there.”

Bulma grinned at him wickedly, pulling the blanket up beneath her chin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Vegeta lifted the blanket and peeked underneath. Bulma squealed, trying to pull it back down. They wrestled for a while, Bulma laughing breathlessly until Vegeta won and got under the blanket with her. It quickly turned into another make out session, and they kissed each other hungrily. Vegeta’s hands ran over her lithe body, his jeans grinding against her panties. 

Suddenly there was a sound outside the bedroom door. Both of them froze, panicked about getting caught. 

“ _Meow_!”

Bulma gave an exasperated sighed, relaxing. “It’s Scratch, my dad’s cat.”

Vegeta took longer to relax, clearly thinking he’d almost been caught red handed by her parents. He swore softly under his breath and rolled off her, throwing an arm over his eyes in frustration.

“Night, Bulma.”

Bulma smiled sympathetically and curled up next to him. “Night, Vegeta.”

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

When Bulma woke the next morning, Vegeta was already gone. Bulma wished she could have woken by his side, but she also knew they’d both be in a heap of trouble if he got caught. She lay in bed for a while as the sun slowly rose, breathing in his scent that lingered on her pillows, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened yesterday. Bulma blushed, remembering their kisses and the feel of his hands on her body. The memory alone made her feel hot and bothered and aching for him.

She wondered how quickly she could scheme for him to come over again. Would today be too soon? Perhaps they could meet somewhere, away from the threat of parents or cock-blocking cats?

With ideas whirring in her mind, Bulma stretched out, trying to find her phone before remembering she’d left it on the table. She got up and found her cell was already flashing with a notification. Bulma opened her messages, seeing it was from Vegeta.

_Had to leave early to get home. Might not be able to reply to you today. See you Monday._

It was hardly a love note, but it was the most words Vegeta had ever typed out to her in one go. Bulma smiled and punched out a reply.

 _Okay. I’ll bring you lunch on Monday. Miss you already._ Bulma frowned, worrying her lip, then deleted the last line, worried she sounded too clingy. _Okay. I’ll bring you lunch on Monday. Have a good weekend!_ [Winky face] [kissy face] [smiley face]. She sent it and went about getting ready.

She showered and ate breakfast, then called Chi-Chi. “Want to go shopping?”

“Of course. In a good mood?”

Bulma beamed. “You’ve no idea.”

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma spent Sunday with Chi-Chi shopping for lingerie and new outfits and whatever else caught her fancy. She checked her phone occasionally but she didn’t worry when she didn’t receive any messages, Vegeta had warned her that he might be unable to text her, and he’d promised to see her at school on Monday. 

She sent him a message before she went to bed that night, hoping he might be able to reply. _How was your day? Looking forward to tomorrow._ [Smiley face] After an hour she was about the give up on receiving a message back when her phone buzzed.

 _Have a good day?_ He texted her.

Bulma smiled, elated. _Yes!_ [Smiley face] [thumbs up] _You?_

Several minutes later, his reply came. _Tired_.

Bulma’s smile faltered. It had taken an awful long time for such a short message to come through. She sent a sympathetic sad-face emoji back to Vegeta. After another interminable wait, he replied.

 _Night, Bulma_. 

Bulma tried not to feel disappointed. Perhaps she’d woken him which is why his messages were so sparse. She sent back a good night, and waited, but there were no further replies. Figuring she’d just have to wait until the following day to get any decent dialogue with him, Bulma put her phone away and went to sleep.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The next morning Bulma was too excited to drag her feet like she usually did on a Monday. She was ready to go before her mother had finished making her breakfast. “I’ll eat it on the way in!” Bulma called, taking a couple slices of toast with her out the door. She took the long way in to school since she had the time and because it was the most likely route for Vegeta to take to school.

She was finished her toast when she saw a familiar spiky haired figure ahead of her. Bulma could barely contain herself. She started jogging over to Vegeta and was about to call out to him when she noticed how slowly he was moving, and that he was struggling to walk in a straight line. His bag over his right shoulder, which was odd considering that was the side of his broken rib. Bulma approached him more cautiously, uncertainty quickening her heartbeat. Something was off. 

“Vegeta?” she asked softly as she reached him.

Vegeta stopped in his tracks, his shoulders hunching at the sound of her voice. He didn’t turn to look at her. Bulma felt her throat go dry as she stepped up to his side to get a look at him, fearing the worst. When she saw his face, there were not new bruises, but he looked exhausted, pale, and sweaty.

“Hey, Briefs,” he muttered, looking past her.

“Don’t ‘ _hey, Briefs_ ’ me,” Bulma said, her voice tense. “Are you sick? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, just tired,” Vegeta said, his voice sounded hoarse, overused. 

Bulma reached out to take his hand in hers. The moment she touched his fingers he flinched back, sucking in a sharp, pained breath. He clutched his arm at the shoulder, wincing.

Bulma reeled back, shocked. “Vegeta… You’re hurt.”

Vegeta panted, his face strained as he shook his head. “It’s nothing… just a pulled muscle.”

Bulma felt fear rise in her gut, which only sparked her rage. “Pulled muscle my _butt_. Can you even raise your arm?”

“I said it’s _fine_.”

“Do it!”

“Fuck off, Briefs.”

“Raise your arm, goddamnit,” Bulma shrieked at him, terrified now.

Vegeta glared back at her. Then he looked down at his arm. His fingers twitched and his hand shook. He could barely raise his arm a few inches before crying out in pain, and he fell to his knees, overcome. Bulma dropped down to the ground with him, pulling out her phone and calling the ambulance. 

“Why do have to be so goddamn nosey?” he snapped at her, his head bowed in defeat, sweat dripping down his face.

“Because I care about you, you stupid, prideful jerk!” she shouted back at him, feeling tears brim in her eyes.

“Tch,” he replied weakly. He sat back against the sidewalk wall, leaning his head against it, too weak to argue with her further. By the time the ambulance arrived, Vegeta was barely conscious. Because neither he nor Bulma could provide much information about his condition, the paramedics cut off his top to examine him and place sensors on his vitals. Bulma cried out in horror when she saw his torso. Vegeta was riddled with fresh bruises, great big black splotches marring his chest and back. Intermingled with the bruises were welts, great ugly lash marks criss-crossing his flesh, raw and swollen. Bulma could also see that his arm was broken by the unnatural way it lay at his side. He was feverish and on the verge of passing out, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometime in the span of 24 hours, someone had tortured Vegeta severely; he’d had none of these injuries Saturday night. Bulma couldn’t stop the horrified tears from streaming down her face.

When they arrived at the hospital she was separated from Vegeta so that he could be stabilized. She sat on a bench in a hall and called her father in tears. She told Dr. Briefs about Vegeta’s condition and everything that she suspected.

“Papa, I’m sure he’s being abused at home,” she sobbed into her phone, sobbing inconsolably. “We have to help him. We have to do something, it gets worse every time, please, before they kill him. Please, Papa.”

“Okay, alright, calm down, sweetheart. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Please, please…”

“I said alright, Bulma. Now, why don’t you go back to school so you can be with your friends?”

“No, I’m not leaving him here alone!” she wailed hysterically.

“Alright, hush now, there’s a good girl. You take care of Vegeta, but let the doctors do their job, okay? I’ll call the school to let them know where you two are, then I’ll make some phone calls about Vegeta. But honey, I can’t promise anything. Child custody is a tricky business, you know.”

Bulma sniffed, nodding even though Dr. Briefs couldn’t see her do so. She wiped her eyes, letting her father’s voice calm her down. No one was as smart as her father. If anyone could solve this problem, it was him.

“I know you can do it, Papa. Please help him, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault because I invited him over and asked him to stay past his curfew…” Bulma dissolved into another fit of sobs, riddled with guilt. Vegeta was hurt because of her, she was positive. He must have gotten caught and punished for breaking his curfew, what else could it have been? What made it worse was that Vegeta had known it was going to happen, and yet he’d chosen to stay with her anyway. She’d asked him to stay, she’d begged him like the spoilt, entitled brat that she was.

Bulma felt like trash. 

She ended the call with her father assuring he’d do his best by Vegeta. Bulma collected herself and went back into Vegeta’s room. He was laying in bed, asleep, an IV drip in his arm feeding him much needed fluids. His left arm was in a cast, his entire torso covered in bandages. Bulma took a seat by his bed, staring at his wan face. In sleep he looked so much younger and vulnerable, his impressive scowl and arrogant confidence washed away. Bulma rested her head on the bed by his hand, watching Vegeta breathe until she too fell into a fitful, guilt-ridden slumber.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_AN:_

_Oh, Bulma :(_

_And Oh me, I’m so effing tired I’m about to pass out. Forgive any errors if there are any, I’ve tried proof-reading this chapter but I’m seriously about to sleep on my keyboard here so my mind isn’t as sharp as it should be._

_I’d love to hear what you think of the chapter! I’m also curious if there are any artists amongst the readership here. Just to satisfy my own Vegebul lust, haha._

_New chapter soon! ;)_


	9. 09 - Roommates

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.09 - Roommates**

 

When her eyes fluttered open a couple hours later, Bulma saw Vegeta was looking at her. He quickly looked away but too late, she’d caught him staring. Bulma rubbed her eyes and sat up stiffly. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine,” he replied unhelpfully, his voice hoarse, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Bulma’s lips thinned, feeling anger welling up inside. She knew what ‘fine’ meant to Vegeta - it meant whatever he wanted it to mean, so long as it stopped questions being asked of him. She was sick of it, sick of his bravado and evasiveness. 

“ _Why_?” she asked, her voice full of hurt and accusation. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? Why did you stay with me if you knew you were going to be punished? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vegeta’s jaw clenched, his brow furrowing into a frown. “It was my choice.”

Bulma felt her lip quiver but she couldn’t say if it was from tears or rage. “It shouldn’t have ever been a choice! If I had known this would happen, I never would have asked you stay.”

“It’s fine, Bulma. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“But _I_ didn’t!” Bulma sobbed angrily. “I never wanted you to get hurt because of me, not for something so stupid as cuddling in bed!”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It is!”

“Not to me.”

“Well it is to me!” Bulma spat back. Vegeta flinched, his eyes drifting away, and Bulma realized what she had said. She lowered her gaze. “That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

“Bulma,” Vegeta cut in, his voice unusually calm. He paused, flexing his right hand, then forced himself to continue. “No one has ever asked me to stay because they wanted me there.” He looked her, his dark gaze pinning her. “Not anyone. Ever.”

Bulma stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, speechless.

“It wasn’t stupid,” he repeated. “I knew the consequence. And yes, I’d do it again.”

Bulma flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She sobbed against his collarbone, pouring out her fear and guilt and relief. Vegeta let her cry against him, remaining stoic through her tears.

Suddenly he stiffened, grabbing her arm. “Alright, get off me,” he said, his voice terse.

Bulma reluctantly let him go, wiping her eyes. She saw he was looking past her, and turned around to see what had caught his attention. In the doorway stood her friends, staring at the two of them awkwardly, stunned. Goku laughed, embarrassed, Chi-Chi’s eyes were huge, the other guys just looked uncomfortable. Yamcha was the most shocked, standing rigid, speechless at the sight of Bulma and Vegeta together. “What are you guys doing here?” Bulma asked, just as surprised to see them.

“Coach told us Vegeta was here,” Tien said flatly, explaining. “Goku suggested we come pay a visit, seeing as Vegeta’s on the team and all.”

Goku laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re here too, huh, Bulma?”

Yamcha turned around sharply and left, unable to handle the situation. They all stood there awkwardly, none of them saying anything.

Chi-Chi finally cleared her throat. “Well? The card?”

Goku startled, grinning bashfully. “Oh yeah, right. Uh, we signed a get well card for you, haha.” He offered it to Vegeta.

Vegeta looked at the colorful card, frowning. “What the hell am I suppose to do with that?”

“Vegeta!” Bulma scolded.

He glared at her. Bulma glared back. The others exchanged surprised looks at Bulma and Vegeta’s familiarity.

“Tch,” Vegeta finally relented, breaking his stare-off with Bulma. He snatched the card from Goku’s hand. “Thanks. You can leave now.”

“Yep, I’d say we’ve worn out our welcome,” Krillin quipped from the doorway.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Bulma said, knowing the situation was awkward but she was appreciative of her friends support nonetheless. They certainly didn’t have to come. 

“Bulma, a word?” Chi-Chi stressed. Bulma winced but nodded. She left the room with her friends and walked down the hall a little way until they were out of Vegeta’s earshot.

“Bulma, are you crazy? _Vegeta_?” Krillin asked, incredulous. “He’s a psychopath!”

“He is not!” Bulma huffed, her temper flying.

“Psychopath might be going a bit far,” Tien amended. “But he doesn’t exactly have a great reputation.”

“Most of those rumors about him are over embellished,” Bulma protested. “Look, I don’t expect you guys to understand, but if you can’t trust him, at least trust me. I think someone’s hurting Vegeta and I need to try and keep him safe.”

“Perhaps he deserves it,” Krillin grumbled under his breath.

“Perhaps you deserve my heel up your ass!” Bulma shouted at him, and Krillin backed away, raising his hands in supplication. 

“Alright, Bulma, we trust you, of course we do,” Goku said, putting a hand on Bulma’s shoulder and giving her a friendly smile. “Just tell us what you need and we’ll do what we can to make it happen.”

Bulma pressed her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying again, touched by Goku’s support. She nodded bravely. “Thanks, Goku. And… tell Yamcha, I’m sorry. I guess…” she said, knowing she didn’t really owe Yamcha an apology, but she still felt a little guilty. It probably seemed to Yamcha that she’d moved on from him awfully quickly.

The group left, leaving Bulma and Chi-Chi alone. Her friend had been quiet through most of the exchange. Chi-Chi gave her an intense look. “So all this time we’ve been chatting about your ‘crush’, you’ve been talking about Vegeta?”

Bulma gave her friend an embarrassed look. “Yeah.”

Chi-Chi sighed. “I wish you could have let me known what was going on.”

Bulma fidgeted. “ _I_ didn’t even really know what was going on. I still don’t.”

Chi-Chi came up and hugged her friend. Bulma hugged her back tightly, appreciative of the support. 

“Don’t try and handle it all by yourself, okay?” Chi-Chi told her. “We know you’re a genius, that doesn’t mean you can’t use help.” She let her friend go with a last squeeze.

“Thanks, Chi-Chi, that means a lot,” Bulma said genuinely. 

Chi-Chi arched her brow, folding her arms. “But for the record, you have the _worst_ taste in men. Are you even sure Vegeta’s housebroken?”

Bulma laughed. “Doubtful. But that’s part of the appeal.”

“Uh-huh,” Chi-Chi said dubiously.

“Like you can talk,” Bulma countered. “You’re lucky if you can drag Goku away from a buffet or a fight.”

Chi-Chi smirked. “Lucky for me, I’m good at providing him with both.”

They both laughed. Then silence fell upon them, and worry crept up on Bulma’s brow as reality settled upon her once more, her thoughts drifting to Vegeta and his troubled situation.

Chi-Chi gave her a sympathetic look. “If anyone can save him, you can,” she offered.

“Yeah,” Bulma replied, but she wasn’t so confident. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma made sure Vegeta was well fed and entertained in hospital, fetching him copious amounts of food and finding a board-game they could play, one handed for Vegeta’s sake, to pass the time. Bulma was puzzling over her next move on the chess board, her and Vegeta’s game having come to a stale mate, when Vegeta suddenly broke the silence.

“Sir!” 

Bulma looked up and saw an impressive man in the doorway. The man was tall and powerful looking - not just physically strong, but confident, the military uniform he wore with all the stars and badges certainly adding to the perception. What was most striking though was his resemblance to Vegeta; there was no denying a familial bond here.

“Vegeta, I see you have company,” the man said in a deep, smooth voice. He had his military cap tucked under his arm, and he entered the hospital room as if he owned the place. His gaze was piercing and he held out a hand to Bulma. “I’m Vegeta’s father, Lieutenant General Vegeta Saiyan.”

Bulma shook his hand, her eyes wide, intimidated. “Bulma Briefs… You’re also ‘Vegeta’?”

Mr. Saiyan smiled. “Yes, although to tell you the truth, my given name is ‘King’; obnoxious, isn’t it? ‘Vegeta’ is my middle name, but it’s what I go by. Can you imagine the comments I got as a child, having ‘King’ as my name?” His eyes twinkled as he spoke to her.

Bulma laughed politely. Mr. Saiyan squeezed her hand then let it go. 

“I must thank you kindly for taking care of my son. I’m relieved to know he wasn’t locked up here all by himself,” Mr. Saiyan said, his eyes drifting over to Vegeta. Bulma’s gaze followed. Vegeta’s expression was a lot more guarded than it had been a minute ago, his posture tense. He said nothing.

Bulma felt obliged to break the silence if only to be civil. “Vegeta is a good friend, and my partner in advanced skills,” she explained, feeling awkward. What was with the tension in the room? 

Mr. Saiyan nodded, the only one who appeared at ease. He glanced at the chess board between them. “Ah, chess, is it? Good luck there, Miss Briefs. I’m surprised you’ve withstood so long. Vegeta is usually so quick to destroy his opponents. He’s a cunning strategist; get’s that from me,” Mr. Saiyan winked at Bulma.

Bulma didn’t know whether to laugh or not. There was something both endearing and terrifying about Vegeta’s father. 

Mr. Saiyan smiled benignly at Vegeta. “You know, she won’t learn if you keep going easy on her.”

Vegeta grimaced, scowling. “I’m not,” he said, his tone frustrated.

Mr. Saiyan arched a brow, looking surprised. He glanced at the chess board again, taking in all the pieces and the defense Bulma had put in place against Vegeta’s attack. He looked back at Bulma with renewed interest. “Well… Miss Briefs, do you have plans after graduating? We can always use more bright women in the military to bolster our Science, Research and Development team.”

“I don’t think so,” a cheery voice interrupted from the door. Dr. Briefs walked in with an amiable smile. “Bulma will be too busy taking over Capsule Corporation to join the military.”

“Papa,” Bulma greeted with relief, relaxing. She always felt at ease around her father.

“Hello kids,” Dr. Briefs greeted them with a friendly smile. “I hope you don’t mind, Vegeta, but I’ve come to steal your father away for a moment.”

“Right, yes,” Mr. Saiyan said without hesitation, appearing to know what Dr. Briefs was talking about. Vegeta’s eyes widened with surprise. He glanced at his father then at Dr. Briefs, puzzled, but he wasn’t given an explanation as the two older men left the room to converse.

“What the…” Vegeta said, clearly confused. He looked at Bulma. “What was _that_ about?”

“I um… called my father earlier,” Bulma told him, her voice hesitant. She was suddenly nervous about telling Vegeta her part in trying to rescue him from his home life. “I was worried about your… situation.”

Vegeta scowled at her. He reached out, grabbing her arm tightly. “Bulma… What did you do?” he asked, his voice tight, his eyes intense.

Bulma swallowed, looking down at the bed. “I asked my dad if he could help you in some way… to get away from all the beatings you’ve been taking…”

Vegeta was staring at her as if she’d turned lime green. “You did _what_?” Vegeta glanced at the door his father had left through, then glared back at her. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“Vegeta, you’re hurting my arm,” Bulma winced as Vegeta’s fingers clenched her arm painfully.

Vegeta loosened his grip, but not by much. “What the hell did you say? Who told you to interfere in my life?”

Bulma glared back at him, upset and hurt. “I don’t need to be told to interfere when someone is being abused, especially when it’s someone I care about. Do you even see how badly you’re hurt right now? Do you know how messed up your situation is? It’s not normal, Vegeta. Home should be a safe place, not a place you fear.”

“I told you I’m _fine_!” he shouted at her.

“You could be hurt worse next time!” She shouted back. “You could sustain a permanent injury. You could _die_!”

“Tch, how weak do you think I am?”

“Not weak enough,” she replied, and that seemed to stump him because he had no instant reply. Bulma drew herself up. “You’re too damn stubborn and prideful to ask for help, so I’m tired of waiting for you to ask and I’m just going to give it to you.”

“You don’t know _what_ you’re talking about. You don’t know my situation,” Vegeta snapped back at her, shaking her arm for emphasis. “Do you know what you’ve done? Your goddamn meddling could fuck over my father’s career. What’s more, it could fuck over your father’s too if he gets the attention of the wrong goddamn people. You should have kept your _stupid_ nose out of our business.”

“Stupid?” Bulma huffed, trying to hide her dread at Vegeta’s threats about her father’s work. “Maybe if you _told_ me what was going on once in a while, my ‘meddling’ wouldn’t be so troublesome.”

“I told you I don’t need you rescuing me.”

“Oh really? What even happened to you, Vegeta? You were trying to go to school with a broken arm, on the verge of collapsing, beaten to hell…”

Vegeta let go of her arm, looking away. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Vegeta! This wasn’t even the first time. That day on the roof, you were cryi-”

“Get out,” he snapped at her coldly, his eyes burning with rage. “I can’t stand to listen to your goddamn screeching for another second.”

Bulma tried not to let it show how much his words struck her. She got off his bed and stormed out of his room. She went and sat on a bench down the hall, and as the shock of their argument wore off, she started to cry silent tears of frustration. 

A long while later, their fathers returned. Dr. Briefs wore his usual jovial smile, but Mr. Saiyan’s expression was much harder to read. The lieutenant general returned to his son’s room, leaving Dr. Briefs to sit by his daughter on the bench.

“Good news, sweetheart,” Dr. Briefs told her. “Vegeta will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

Bulma sat upright, her eyes wide. “What? _Really_?”

Dr. Briefs smiled and nodded.

Bulma hugged her father, overcome with emotions. “Thank you, Papa, thank you so much!” Dr. Briefs patted her back gently.  “How did you manage that?”

Dr. Briefs pulled back to wink at her. “Never you mind the details. The lieutenant general and I came to an arrangement. No child protection services necessary. All anyone needs to know is that we’ll be sponsoring Vegeta’s education and development from now on.”

Bulma stared at her father in awe. “Papa, you’re amazing.”

Dr. Briefs chuckled. 

They remained sitting for a few more minutes, Bulma processing the news, elated. But her smile of relief and joy quickly faded as she remembered her argument with Vegeta. How would Vegeta receive the news? “Is Mr. Saiyan telling Vegeta?” Bulma asked her father quietly.

Dr. Briefs hummed in confirmation. 

Bulma sighed, nervous. Her father glanced at her, then patted her knee. “Well, that should be long enough. Shall we go see our new house guest?”

Bulma felt her mouth go dry. She followed a step behind her father, anxiety dragging at her heels. As they approached Vegeta’s room and glanced in, they saw Mr. Saiyan speaking to his son. The older Vegeta had a hand on his son’s uninjured shoulder, talking too softly for Bulma to hear their conversation. But Vegeta’s hand was fisted, his face stormy. Bulma sunk back further behind her father’s lab coat.

Mr. Saiyan spotted them and turned, smiling at the Briefs. “Dr. Briefs, Miss Bulma. Vegeta will be delighted to stay with you. I’ll get his things from the Cold’s and have them brought to your house right away.”

“The Cold’s?” Bulma asked, unable to keep her big mouth shut.

Mr. Saiyan looked at her, bemused. “You didn’t know? My work keeps me away from home, so Vegeta has been living with an acquaintance and his family.”

Bulma looked at Vegeta, but he was glaring off to the side, his face still dark and angry. Bulma looked down. 

“It’ll be nice to have another man under the roof,” Dr. Briefs chuckled. “With one wife and two daughters, Vegeta will be a welcome relief.”

“You’ve another daughter?” Mr. Saiyan asked.

“Yes, Tights. But she’s already flown the coop.”

“They grow up so fast.”

“That they do!”

The two men chuckled and exchanged a few more pleasantries before Mr. Saiyan made his excuses, shook hands and left. Dr. Briefs went to find a doctor to see if Vegeta could be dismissed. Bulma was left standing uncomfortably in the room, glancing at Vegeta. Vegeta didn’t look at her, staying silent. 

Dr. Briefs eventually returned and they took Vegeta to his new home. It was the most painfully awkward car trip of her life.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Vegeta didn’t come out of his room except when it was absolutely necessary. After returning from the hospital, he was given a day off school to recover and adjust to his new surroundings. Bulma still had to go to school and face a barrage of questions about Vegeta from her friends; Yamcha was conspicuously absent. 

When she came home, Vegeta was still in his room and had been there all day according to Mrs. Briefs. His room was at the end of the hall from Bulma’s. Feeling as though she needed to break the tension, Bulma grabbed a plate of dinner and took it to Vegeta’s room. She knocked, and after a while Vegeta opened his door. He glared at her.

“Um, dinner,” she said, offering the plate with a hopeful smile.

Vegeta glanced at the food, then snatched the plate from her hands. He slammed the door in Bulma’s face, and that was the last she saw of him. No playful arguments, no TV or tickling or sharing food together. No kissing… She cried herself to sleep that night, devastated that she’d ruined what they’d had.

The next morning Vegeta had already left for school before she’d even had breakfast. She knew Vegeta was mad at her, avoiding her, but Bulma didn’t know what to do. She was confident it was in his best interests to be living with her family, but her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces daily that he hated her so much for her ‘help’.

Now that he was living with the Briefs, Vegeta had his own allowance to buy lunch if he so wished. When Bulma went to the roof at lunch time, Vegeta wasn’t to be found. Returning to the cafeteria she saw him eating at a table with a large tray of food he’d purchased from the cafeteria. He had the whole table to himself. No one would sit near him, the whole school still terrified of him.

Bulma snorted at everyone’s cowardice. She bought some food for herself and defiantly walked past everyone including her friends to sit down opposite Vegeta at his table. He glanced up at her, scowled, and then returned his attention to his food. Bulma let out a silent breath. He hadn’t told her to fuck off, so that was a good sign, right?

But he didn’t speak to her or acknowledge her any further during lunch. He ate his food quickly and when he was done, abruptly got up and left her by herself. Bulma lowered her head, shielding her face behind her blue tresses, trying to hide her pain. Her friends soon joined her. 

“Guess he isn’t adjusting well?” Chi-Chi asked her sympathetically.

Bulma sighed, pushing her food around on her tray and fighting back tears.

That evening Vegeta came out of his room only to use the gym and bathroom. When Bulma again took his dinner up to him, she held on tightly to the plate when he tried to grab it. “You know, you could come eat with us instead of staying up here like some recluse,” she lectured.

Vegeta just glared at her. He gave the food a hard tug and pulled it out of her hands before shutting the door. Bulma glared at the door before banging on it with her palm. “Why are you being like this?!” she screamed at him, emotions welling up inside of her. When he didn’t reply, she stormed back to her room, slamming her door shut. 

Later, when she’d calmed down, she sent Vegeta a text message. _You don’t have to forgive me. Please, just talk to me?_ [Sad face]

She never got a reply back. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The next couple of days were on rinse and repeat. Vegeta continued to give her the cold shoulder and stay out of her way as much as possible. Bulma continued to share his table at lunch, but he’d only eat in silence and then quickly leave. Goku, Chi-Chi and the others started to sit with Bulma, talking and eating as if their silent, surly companion weren’t there, so that when Vegeta left, Bulma wouldn’t be left alone. It was a nice gesture, but their cheery chatter only highlighted how broken her and Vegeta’s relationship was.

Later that week Bulma was making her way to school, dragging her feet, unable to muster up the enthusiasm to pick up her pace. Her life was miserable. She couldn’t get Vegeta to do more than glare at her for 3 seconds when he accepted his food at night, and it was driving her nuts. She was losing sleep, torn between being furious and depressed, unsure if she wanted to cry against his shoulder, beat him up, or make out with him until they both couldn’t breathe, his powerful arms running all over her body the way they had for one brief, magical evening. 

Bulma was so lost in her thoughts that she at first didn’t see the dark tinted car following her. It moved slowly along the street, a couple dozen feet back. When she began to suspect it was following her, Bulma started to pick up the pace. The car did too. 

Bulma jogged the rest of the way to school. When she entered the school gates and looked around the street, the car was gone. “I’m losing my mind,” she said to herself. It must have been a coincidence. 

When school started, she forgot all about the incident, lost again in her misery about her nonexistent relationship with Vegeta. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

**_AN:_ **

_Some of you might be interested to know that I don’t actually just write these chapters and then instantly throw them up online. I actually started this story a couple months ago in my free time and am currently on the first draft of chapter 24 as I type this. I go back later and edit/polish up earlier chapters to post, which can take a while, so I’m trying to give myself a buffer. I often need to rewrite chapters too, which can be frustrating and slow going. Anyway, that’s why I can say that although this chapter might be heartbreaking, I think you guys are really gonna love the next one, at least, I do, haha._

_As always, I’d love to know what you all think, and I’ll try to reply to all of you as I can! :)_


	10. 10 - Treating Wounds

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.10 - Treating Wounds**

 

Bulma decided against going to MMA practice after school that day; the last thing she wanted was to be ignored further by Vegeta, and to have Yamcha casting hostile glances their way. When school ended, Bulma tried to lose herself in a book in the library, but her concentration was quickly derailed by thoughts of a certain spiky haired boy. She sighed, and finally gave up and headed for home. She kicked a pebble down the footpath as she walked, in no particular hurry, as easily able to dwell on her misery on the street as she was in her room.

The sound of a rumbling car engine brought her out of her reverie. Bulma waited for the car to pass her by, but it never did. Puzzled, Bulma looked over her shoulder to see what the hold up was, and nearly missed her next step at what she saw. A few hundred feet back a car with dark tinted windows was slowly prowling down the road after her.

The same car from that morning. Wasn’t it?

Bulma looked away, panicking, her heart beating anxiously in her chest. Was she being followed? It wasn’t so outlandish to imagine - her family was insanely wealthy, it wouldn’t be ridiculous to think someone might try kidnapping her for a ransom. Bulma slowed and pulled out her phone. She pretended to text someone while punching in 911, ready to press the call button if needed. She cast a surreptitious glance back, checking on the car. It was still there and had slowed to keep pace with her. There was no doubt it was tailing her.

Bulma swallowed, feeling a cold fear wash through her, numbing her limbs. She picked up the pace, putting her phone away, keeping her hands free for what she was about to do. The crunch of the car’s tires told her it was still following along. Bulma took the next turn and as soon as she was out of the car’s line of sight, bolted as fast as she’d ever run in her life. She ran around the block, doubling back towards the school. But any hope that she might have lost the driver died when she heard the squeal of tires as the car came barreling around the corner after her, the driver speeding to catch up with her. 

Terrified, Bulma sprinted for her life. The school was just up ahead, all she had to do was turn one more corner. She pushed herself as fast as her legs could carry her, her muscles screaming at the abuse. The car was baring down on her, too fast, it was much, much faster than she could ever hope to outrun. Bulma looked over her shoulder and screamed when she saw the car charge straight towards her. In her panic she fell, landing hard on the concrete, pain searing through her palms and knees. The car squealed to a halt, tires screeching, smoke rising and filling the air with the smell of burnt rubber. Quivering in terror, Bulma looked over her shoulder, seeing the car only inches from her feet, the front tires pressed hard against the raised curb.

Then car squealed as the tires rotated backwards and the car backed up in a hurry. Unsure if it was going to charge her again, Bulma scrambled desperately to her feet and fled. She turned the last corner but the car shot past her on the street, overtaking her. In a shriek of rubber and break pads, the car locked up and spun in a half circle, coming to a dramatic stop right in front of the school entrance, blocking anyone from using the front gate. Bulma came to a running stop. Fear filled her. She was locked out.

Bulma looked around, wide eyed and terrified. Near her was a large tree that grew by the school’s entrance, towering over the tall school wall. She moved on pure adrenalin and threw herself at the tree, scrambling up, uncaring of the rough bark and branches that tore at her clothes, hair and flesh. The sound of the car’s revving engine below spurned her on, and she climbed along a large branch that hovered over the school wall. She reached the end of the limb, the branch bowing worrying under her weight. Trembling, terrified, Bulma jumped. She tried to land on the wall, but she misjudged the distance and bounced off the top, falling painfully to the ground several feet below. Bulma sucked in a pained cry as she hit the ground, tears burning her eyes, her vision going blurry for a moment. She looked around wildly to see if she was followed.

There was no sign of pursuit, not yet. Bulma had landed inside the school, but she could see the car was still parked at the entrance. Fearful the driver might get out at any moment, Bulma dragged herself up, her body screaming in pain, but she ignored it and started running clumsily for the gym, not looking back to see if anyone gave chase.

After a torturous dash through the school grounds, bouncing off walls and stumbling over her own feet, Bulma crashed through the gym doors, gasping for air, fighting back tears of pain and terror. Her dramatic entrance caused quite a stir. Vegeta was the first to react; he stood up from his place on the bleachers, his eyes going wide at the sight of her. He took a step forward, but then her vision was obscured as her friends swarmed around her, exclaiming at her state. 

“Oh my god, Bulma! What happened?” Chi-Chi cried, grabbing her friend gently by the arms as Bulma sunk to the floor, collapsing. She looked down and noticed the awful state she was in. Her hands and knees were grazed and bloody, her shirt ripped, her limbs cut up, probably from climbing the tree, and Chi-Chi was plucking a few leaves and twigs from her hair. 

“Who did this?” Goku asked as he came up to her, his expression unusually serious. Goku had always been like a brother to her, and his concern triggered something within her. Overwhelmed, torn between relief at her survival and terror for what she’d endured, Bulma started crying uncontrollably.

Chi-Chi held her while she cried, the boys hovering around awkwardly, uncertain how to help. “Should we get the Coach?” Chiaotzu asked tentatively. 

“N-No!” Bulma sobbed, not wanting to have to face Piccolo in her current condition.

“Bulma, you’re bleeding,” Krillin protested gently. “We should get you seen to at least.”

“N-no, I d-don’t…” Bulma sobbed, trying to calm down, but the tears kept welling up and bubbling over, and she realized she was hyperventilating. Someone passed her a water bottle and she gratefully took it, drinking greedily to soothe her panic. Her hands shook as they held the bottle.

Chi-Chi pet her hair. “It’s okay. You want me to get rid of the guys?” she asked, before flashing the boys with a fierce glare as if they were somehow responsible for Bulma’s misery. The boys all took a fearful step back.

Bulma shook her head. “N-no, they can stay…” Bulma sniffed, feeling a little calmer and wanting to explain what had happened. “S-someone tried to r-run me over… Th-they chased me down, the car, it was tinted, I couldn’t see… I h-had to climb over the big tree at the front to get inside without b-being caught. They were still at the entrance wh-when I ran here, I don’t know if they’re s-still waiting there…”

Goku looked at his friends. Tien and Krillin nodded and left to investigate. Goku squatted down to speak to her face to face. “Bulma, we should report this to the police.”

“I…” Bulma’s voice trailed off, feeling unsure. The thought of facing the police unsettled her, it was bad enough just having to explain the situation to her friends.

Suddenly Vegeta was pushing his way into the group. He shoved Goku aside to crouch before her, his face serious, looking at her with his intense, unforgiving eyes. “Did you get the license plate number?” he asked her bluntly.

Bulma shook her head, feeling her heart sink. She hadn’t thought to look.

“The make or model of the car?” 

Bulma shook her head again, lowering her gaze in shame.

“The _color_ of the car? A look at the driver?” Vegeta pressed, relentless.

Bulma could feel tears escape her eyes to run down her cheeks. Each of his questions were like a slap to the face, highlighting her uselessness. “I don’t know… It was a dark color … I think.”

“You think,” Vegeta repeated dubiously.

“Hey, asshole, lay off her,” Yamcha interrupted, grabbing Vegeta by the shoulder. “The girl’s just had a traumatic experience. Cut her some slack.”

Vegeta stood up, rolling his shoulder out of Yamcha’s grip. “I’m just determining if she knows something _useful_. If she can’t tell the police anything worthwhile, then there’s no need to subject her to their interrogations.”

“You would know a lot about police interrogations, wouldn’t you?” Yamcha snidely insinuated.

Vegeta sneered back, not liking the implication or the person making it.

“Hey blockheads, enough with the testosterone. There’s a woman in distress here!” Chi-Chi chastised them. Yamcha and Vegeta broke their stare-off, looking away from each other unhappily. 

“What do _you_ want to do?” Chi-Chi asked Bulma kindly.

Bulma wiped her eyes. “I just want to go home, if it’s safe to do so.” She felt exhausted and humiliated. She didn’t know why she was being targeted and her near death experience had shattered her self confidence and illusion of safety. And Vegeta was right, she had nothing useful to give to the police. She just wanted to curl up in the safety of her bed and pretend that nothing could hurt her.

They waited a few more minutes until Krillin and Tien returned. “Nothing,” Tien declared. “We walked around the block and checked all the side streets. No tinted cars or suspicious persons.”

“Sorry, Bulma,” Krillin apologised.

Bulma shook her head. “Thanks, guys.”

“What do we do?” Chi-Chi asked the group.

“I’ve got my bike, I can take her home,” Yamcha offered.

“Like _hell_ ,” Vegeta huffed. Everyone looked at him, startled by his outburst. Vegeta seemed indifferent to their shock. “ _I’ll_ take her home. I do live with her after all.”

Yamcha’s mouth dropped open, struggling with the revelation. Bulma winced. She hadn’t told Yamcha that Vegeta was living with her, and from his expression, no one else had wanted to break the news to him either. 

Vegeta smirked at Yamcha’s reaction.

“You…!” Yamcha spluttered, taking a threatening step towards Vegeta. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, his smile widening darkly. But before anything could happen, Goku placed a hand on Yamcha’s shoulder, stopping him.

“That sounds great, Vegeta, thanks,” Goku said cheerily even as his fingers squeezed Yamcha’s shoulder. Yamcha glanced at Goku, surprised that his friend was siding with Vegeta. Goku returned Yamcha’s look, his expression sympathetic but unflinching. _You had your chance_ , it said. Yamcha looked away, furious, but he didn’t protest any further.

Vegeta gave Yamcha one final, satisfied smirk, then turned his attention back to Bulma, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. He stepped forward and held out his good hand to her. “C’mon, before the Coach comes back.”

Bulma hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. After Vegeta had been ignoring her for so long, it felt so surreal for him to now be offering her his aid, but Bulma wasn’t about to pass it up, and she didn’t want to have to answer any of the Coach’s questions if he saw her in her disheveled state. She took Vegeta’s hand and he pulled her to her feet. Pain lanced up her leg and Bulma stumbled into his arms. “Ow!” she cried out. She looked down at her ankle, trying to put weight on it, but it only caused her more pain. She must have twisted it in her mad scramble to escape the car.

“God you’re useless,” Vegeta complained as he steadied her. Bulma lowered her head, too shaken to rebuff his words. Vegeta sighed. He looked her over, his eyes pausing on her torn shirt. He made an aggravated sound and took off his jacket to drape it over her. “Tch. Cover yourself up.”

Bulma felt her throat close up. She did as told, slipping her arms into the jacket’s sleeves. It was still warm from his body, the warmth seeping deep into her bones and she kept her eyes lowered so as not to betray how good it felt, even if his words stung. Vegeta took her bag, swinging it over his shoulder to rest with his own. Then he grabbed her arm, putting it over his shoulders to support her weight and started walking them out of the gym.

“Be safe!” Chi-Chi called after them worriedly.

They hobbled out together, Vegeta keeping the pace easy so that Bulma could keep up on her busted ankle. She looked around them anxiously as they exited the school grounds, but as Tien and Krillin had said there was no sign of a car or anyone suspicious. She could see tire marks on the ground from where the car had sped away. But the lack of the car didn’t ease her mind; on the long walk home, every sound of a passing vehicle made her flinch. Vegeta’s arm rested at the small of her waist, helping her keep her balance as they walked, and it felt as though he squeezed her tighter whenever she jumped as the sound of an engine.

“So you really didn’t see anything worthwhile about the car or driver?” He asked her, surprising her that he would break the silence. It had been days since he’d willingly spoken to her.

Bulma shook her head. Then she remembered something. “Actually… I think the car was following me this morning, too.”

“All black windows and a fold down top?”

Bulma nodded, surprised that he would know. She glanced at him. Vegeta’s expression was tense, serious. “… Does that mean something to you?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “…It might.”

She felt anxiety weigh like a stone in her belly. Vegeta didn’t elaborate further, and Bulma didn’t have the guts to ask. The rest of the walk was quiet. She saw Vegeta glance around, scanning their surroundings carefully for any threats. She wondered what he’d do if the car came back. Would he help her, fight for her? Or would he watch impassively while they took her away?

Bulma was glad to finally arrive home. The streets made her feel exposed and her ankle was starting to throb terribly, the shock of her experience wearing off and making her realize she’d been hurt worse than she’d previously thought.

Vegeta helped her up the stairs and led her to his room. Bulma didn’t protest, following meekly, still feeling shaken and grateful that he was taking the lead. Once in his room Vegeta levered her off his shoulders onto the end of his bed and then dumped their bags on the floor. He winced and and grunted in relief, finally free of all the weight.

He looked at her, his eyes coldly taking in her appearance from head to toe. “Take off your shoes,” he instructed, then he headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Bulma asked, her voice sounding desperate even in to her own ears. She didn’t want to be left alone.

“I’ll be back,” he said and left. 

Bulma bit her lip, sitting at the end of his bed all by herself. The room was eerily silent, the weight of it heavy, the only sound her heart, beating flittingly in her ears. Her eyes took in Vegeta’s room. It was militaristically bare; just his bed, desk, drawers and a bookshelf. Everything was neatly in its place. Cold, impersonal, alien.

 _Crack_. 

Bulma startled, her heart slamming wildly as the glass in the window shrank in the cool of the evening. She couldn’t deny it any longer; she was afraid. Someone had tried to murder her today, and for all she knew, they were waiting nearby to finish what they’d started, waiting for her to be vulnerable and alone; like right now. 

 _Stop it_ , she chastised herself, trying to calm her panicked breathing. To distract herself from her fearful thoughts, Bulma did as Vegeta had said and gingerly removed her boots. The process was slow going, her hands were still trembling, and with her injuries slowing her down she was barely able to complete the task by the time Vegeta returned with a bowl of hot water and a first aid kit. He came over to her, all business, kneeling on the floor by her feet. He dabbed a clean cloth in the water and without speaking, started cleaning her skinned knees. 

“Ow!” Bulma hissed, wincing.

“Are you going to complain the whole time?” he asked her irritably.

Bulma clenched her mouth shut to try and smother her outcries. She remembered seeing the wounds on Vegeta’s torso earlier in the week. Vegeta had barely made a sound over his severe injuries. Now here she was making a fuss over some minor scrapes. _He must think I’m so weak_ , she thought to herself miserably.

“This’ll sting,” Vegeta warned before dabbing some ointment on her cuts. Bulma scrunched her eyes shut as the medicine burned, but she refused to cry out. Vegeta peeled open a large band-aid and placed it over her knee, his fingers smoothing out the edges with great care. He repeated the action on her other knee, his thumbs gentle, warm on her skin. When finished he frowned, and ran his fingers down her legs. He found smaller cuts as he touched her, and he tended to each one as he went, cleaning each wound and placing little band-aids over them until her legs were littered with them. Each time he found a new cut on her leg, his expression tightened as if pained.

Bulma swallowed, suddenly nervous as Vegeta’s fingers moved with intimate care along her bare legs, his soft touch prickling her skin, making her remember a time he’d touched her intimately because he’d wanted to, not because he was playing doctor. Anxious to divert her attention, Bulma latched onto something he’d said earlier that she’d been unable to let go of. “You know who it was, don’t you? The driver, I mean.”

Vegeta’s hands stilled. He clenched his jaw, then he nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me who?”

“No. It’s better if you don’t know.”

Bulma bit her lip, scared. “Is it my fault, for meddling?”

Vegeta looked at her, his eyes dark, unreadable. “Yes,” he said, not sugar coating the answer.

Bulma looked away, ashamed and fearful. So she’d brought this on herself.

Vegeta didn’t give her much time for self-pity. “Hands,” he ordered her, his voice gruff.

Bulma held out her palms for Vegeta to tend. Her eyes widened when she saw how badly she was still shaking. She balled her hands into fists and then relaxed them, hoping to ease the trembling, but her hands continued to shake. Vegeta gently took them into his own and held them still.

“It’s okay. It’s the shock,” he told her, his voice unusually soft. “You should eat something after, that will help.”

“Oh,” Bulma said, her voice small. It saddened her that Vegeta would know that. 

He seemed reluctant to let her hands go, holding them for a heartbeat, frowning. Finally he broke their hold and told her to hold her palms upwards. He cleaned the wounds, his ministrations thorough but gentle. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his focus only on her injuries. Bulma watched him, entranced by the methodical way he dealt with her injuries. Yet the kindness he was showing her now only contrasted with how much distance had grown between them recently, and it made her heart ache all the more.

“Vegeta?” she asked, barely a whisper. He didn’t reply, but she knew he’d heard. “How long are you going to hate me for?”

Vegeta’s eyes flicked up to her face, his hand pausing. Then he looked back down and continued to clean her palms. “I don’t hate you, Bulma.”

Bulma felt her heart wring, bringing tears to her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled. “Then why have you been ignoring me? I… I miss what we had.”

Vegeta sighed through his nose, sounding frustrated. “My father told me not to shit where I eat.”

Bulma scrunched her nose. “Ew. What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at her, raising a brow that she didn’t know the term. “It _means_ that the daughter of the man who’s now providing for me is off limits.”

Bulma blinked, processing that information. “ _That’s_ why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he frowned.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s not a big deal,” he snapped at her, his tone annoyed, but his hands were still gentle as they dressed her wounds. “Do you think it’s been easy for me? If your parents didn’t kill me for sniffing around you, my father certainly would. Not to mention the wrong attention it could draw - _has_ drawn. And whatever happened, I’d be fucked out of a home, wouldn’t I?”

Bulma blinked, surprised by his answer. She frowned, trying to see the situation from Vegeta’s point of view. “My father wouldn’t ever kick you out.”

“Tch. Easy for you to say,” he spat back. Without warning, he put ointment on her palms, shocking her with pain. Bulma hissed. Vegeta used the opportunity to finish bandaging her hands as she stared down at his handiwork.

“What do you mean, it hasn’t been easy for you?” she asked when the pain subsided, wanting to know his thoughts.

“Bulma,” Vegeta warned, not wanting to discuss it.

“What do you mean?” she insisted, not giving in.

He sighed, aggravated. “See, this is _exactly_ why I’ve been ignoring you. You can’t take a fucking hint. You’re always poking your damn nose into everybody's business, bringing me dinner, sitting with me at lunch, staring at me with your big, sad blue eyes and never thinking what it might be doing to _me_ , huh? You think I _wanted_ this? I didn’t. Things were going well and oh-ho, should I have _fucking_ known that wouldn’t last because it _never fucking does_. And now here I am, getting cock-blocked by this whole new living arrangement, with you prancing around me in these short fucking skirts, _all the while_ looking at me like _I’m_ the bad guy, just like _everyone else_ in this goddamn world assumes I am…!” Vegeta trailed off angrily, realizing he had gotten carried away. He turned away, fuming, embarrassed.

Bulma sat, stunned by his outburst. It was probably more words than Vegeta had ever spoken to her in her entire time of knowing him. “Vegeta… I never-”

“Drop it, Bulma.”

“But-”

“ _Not now_ , okay? You’re still in shock… And I’m a fucking asshole,” he mumbled the last line under his breath, scowling in frustration.

Bulma looked at him sadly but decided not to push the matter; Vegeta was clearly too upset to talk about the issue objectively. She put her bandaged hands in her lap as Vegeta turned his attention to her foot. He didn’t have to ask which one was injured - the swelling was obvious. Bulma had certainly sprained her ankle. 

“It needs to be elevated and iced,” he said, grateful to be talking about something else. He looked up at her. “Are you cut anywhere else?”

Bulma looked down at herself, checking for any other injuries. “I don’t think so…”

He stood, collecting the items. “Alright. Stay here,” he told her, then left the room.

Bulma had no plans to wander off, but once again she felt uneasy being left alone, the darkness of the room closing in as the seconds ticked by. She raised her swollen foot up onto the bed to elevate it like Vegeta had advised. She sat, waiting, looking about his room, but there was nothing to distract her attention. The shadows grew longer, more menacing, and she wondered fretfully if he’d locked his window. Before she could work herself up into too much of a panic, Vegeta returned with a bandage, some ice wrapped in a cloth, and left over pizza. He handed her the food.

“Eat.”

Bulma opened the box while Vegeta bandaged her foot. She didn’t really feel hungry, but she picked up a slice of cold pizza and nibbled on it dutifully. Vegeta put the ice on her foot, and seeing that she was fixed up and eating, he stood up and went to his cupboard. He pulled out some clothes, then started to leave the room again.

Bulma felt fear grip her throat like a vice, and she dropped the pizza. “Don’t go,” she begged before she could think better of her request. 

Vegeta paused at the door, looking over at her with a raised brow. “I’m just going to shower.”

“I…” she said, her voice getting stuck in her throat as she struggled with her pride. How could she tell him that she was afraid in a way that he might understand? Vegeta seemed afraid of nothing, and he was more likely to sneer at her than comfort her for her weakness. More than that, she liked to think of herself as a strong woman, so that she’d been reduced to a quivering pile of neurosis by some car-wielding maniac had her completely mortified.

Vegeta just stared at her. When she didn’t speak, he turned again for the door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“I’m scared,” she finally admitted, the shameful words tumbling out. Vegeta stopped, his back towards her. Bulma decided to go for broke, her pride not worth it. “Please stay? I only feel safe with you.”

Vegeta looked over his shoulder at her, his brow raised, disbelieving. “You feel safe. With _me_?”

Bulma nodded, looking down to clutch the hem of her skirt, nervous. “I know you think I’m pathetic and weak. I know I make you mad and meddle and that you don’t want to anger our parents.” She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “But someone tried to hurt me today and I’m terrified Vegeta, I’m hurt and I’m so scared and I don’t think I can handle being alone all night… Can you, can you just stay with me, tonight? Please?”

Vegeta stared at her, saying nothing. Bulma felt sick waiting for his verdict, her heart racing nervously. If he sneered at her now, she didn’t think she’d ever recover. 

Vegeta scowled and then looked away, sighing. “Fine,” he relented. He stepped out from the door, throwing his clothes back in the closet.

Bulma felt a few tears of relief slip down her cheeks. She ducked her head to hide them, wiping them away with her bandaged hands.

“You better not be crying,” he warned her sourly.

Bulma shook her head. “It-it’s just my wounds, they sting,” she lied. She continued to wipe her eyes until a handkerchief materialized before her. Bulma looked up into Vegeta’s stern face as he offered it to her with an uncomfortable look. She gave him a small, wet smile, taking it to wipe her eyes. “Thanks. You’re always so kind to me.”

“Tch. I am not, you stupid girl.”

She gave a wet laugh. “Why? Would that sully your reputation, for people to know you can be kind?” she teased as she wiped her tears.

Vegeta glowered at her. “Don’t push your luck, Briefs.” He turned away to kick off his shoes and pull off his shirt, leaving himself in only his undershirt and pants. He checked the pizza box and pulled out a slice for himself. Grabbing his gameboy, he sat down on the bed, propping himself up against a pillow. He started playing as best he could with one hand.

Bulma watched him, feeling relief at his presence wash over her like a warm summer breeze. She clumsily shimmied her way up the bed so that she could sit next to him and watch him play. They ate pizza together quietly, the only sounds coming from his game until the hour grew late and Bulma started nodding off against his shoulder.

She was half asleep when she felt him tugging on her clothes. She opened her eyes and saw he was trying to take off the jacket he’d given her. Sleepily, she arched her back to help him, and he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and down her arms. Bulma pressed her nose into the crook of Vegeta’s neck, smelling the dried salt on his skin. “Mm, you smell good,” she murmured, nuzzling him.

“Stop that,” he snapped irritably. 

Bulma smiled but obliged, letting Vegeta manipulate her under the blankets. He climbed into the bed next to her and lay on his back, the only position available to him between his broken arm and mending ribs. He turned off the light and the room was plunged into darkness. Bulma stared up at the inky black ceiling before closing her eyes.

“From now on, you’ll be walking with me to and from school. Understood?” he said suddenly, his tone brooking no argument.

Bulma felt an aching warmth in the pit of her belly. “And if I don’t?” she teased.

“Then you’ll probably get run over again.”

Bulma shivered at the idea. She scooted closer to Vegeta in bed. “Vegeta?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“Tch.”

Bulma squeezed her eyes closed, and cuddled up closer yet to Vegeta’s side. “…Vegeta?”

“WHAT?”

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

“… Whatever.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“‘Night, Bulma.”

“Good night, Vegeta.”

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

**_AN:_ **

_Ugh, I both love and hate this chapter. I love the scene, but I don’t think I conveyed it as eloquently as I wanted to. But I’ve re-written and re-edited this a dozen times already and I suppose it’ll have to do. What I would give to write as poetically as Tempestt (aka TemptingTemptation). She’s a fecking writing genius._

_Let me know what you guys think, I’m dying to hear your thoughts on this chapter!_

_As for some guest questions previously: The brown paper bag issue will be resolved later, you’ll just have to wait and see, haha! As for Android 18, I often considered adding her to this story, but I think that might have been side-character overkill , and I’m kind of keeping this in line with the saiyan/namek saga cast, which she doesn’t really fall into. Perhaps she can make an appearance later on, but no definite plans yet for her to be in this story. I do think she and Krillin are ADORABLE so she’ll likely show up in one of my fanfics at some point though, if not this one._


	11. 11 - Self Control (w FANART)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.11 - Self Control**

 

 

Something chased her. It barreled down on her, a black snarling, lunging beast, a monster dredged up from the depths of some forgotten horror. She ran from it, her legs screaming, her lungs burning, but she couldn’t put any distance between her and the beast, running in place as though in slow motion, as if the very air itself stuck to her, ensnaring her limbs, dragging her back, holding her down like a virgin to be sacrificed. She cried in frustration and terror as the world conspired to end her, unable to break free. She didn’t want to die like this. She didn’t want to die at all.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the creature was almost upon her, bounding, grinning, gnashing it’s gaping maw at her, filling her nostrils with the acrid stink of smoke and twisting her gut with terror. It was going to get her. With the dread of certainty, Bulma closed her eyes, screaming for her life.

“ _Bulma_.”

She jolted awake, startled, disorientated. For a moment Bulma didn’t know where she was, the room dark and foreign, her heart slamming in her chest, her body slick with sweat and trembling in fear. Vegeta was looking down at her, his face tired and scowling, but his eyes were watching her, concerned.

She threw herself on him, wrapping her arms about his neck as she shook, clinging to him for comfort. The terror of her nightmare slowly, oh so slowly started to ebb away as she held herself against his warm, solid presence, feeling the tendrils of sleep dissipate like smoke.

Vegeta sat stiffly in her embrace, not knowing what to do. “You were crying,” he said flatly, sounding uncomfortable.

Bulma touched her cheek and found it wet with tears. She scrunched her eyes closed, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry. Bad dream.” She started to pull back but from the corner of her eye saw his hand raised, almost touching her. He snatched it back, looking to the side and scowling in embarrassment. Had he been about to comfort her? 

Bulma gave him a small smile and rubbed her arms, shaking off the last of her nightmare. “Sorry I woke you.”

Vegeta grunted and lay back down. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered her gruffly. 

She lay on her side, curling to face him. His eyes were closed, scrunched shut, his brows pulled down. He looked upset. She couldn’t help feeling she was responsible. “Vegeta?”

He let out a long sigh. “What?”

“I’m sorry. Not just for tonight, but for everything.”

“Forget it, Briefs.”

“No,” she insisted softly. “I shouldn’t have meddled without talking to you, but I was worried. I only wanted to help because I care for you, because… you’re my friend. You _are_ my friend, aren’t you?” she suddenly asked.

He made an irritated sound, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwing shut tighter. “Go to _sleep_ , Bulma.”

“We’re still friends, aren’t we, Vegeta?” she begged, desperate now. “Your dad didn’t forbid that at least, did he?”

“Fine! _Yes_ , whatever. Can we go to sleep now?” Vegeta huffed, annoyed by her insistence. 

Bulma settled down, curling her fingers in the pillow by her head, satisfied with his answer, for now. She closed her eyes, and right before she drifted off, she thought she felt him tuck the blanket snuggly over her shoulders.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The next morning Vegeta was up and using the shower by the time she woke up. They got ready for school and, as promised, Vegeta walked with her to keep her safe. They had to leave early since Bulma was only able to manage a slow, limping walk, her ankle still swollen from her fall. Vegeta refused to give her his shoulder this time, no matter how much she begged or pouted. He just snapped at her about learning to manage by herself, and that was that. As they made their way to school, they both kept an eye out for dark tinted cars, but none were to be seen. The walk was quiet and uneventful, Vegeta not in the mood to talk, and Bulma was content to enjoy his protective company in silence.

At the lunch break, Vegeta sat in his own broody bubble, ignoring Bulma and the rest of her friends like he had been doing the past few days. But this time when he was just about finished eating, he paused over the brownie on his tray. His eyes darted up to Bulma, then away. He finished his last mouthful of food, picked up his desert plate and put it on Bulma’s tray. Bulma looked at him, her eyes growing wide, but he stood and left without a word or glance back.

She watched him leave, feeling an uncontained smile split her face at his gesture, until she realized all her friends were staring at her. Bulma couldn’t keep the blush from rising to her cheeks. “What?” she demanded, giving them a haughty look as if nothing were amiss. 

“N-nothing,” Goku said, and laughed uneasily. Chi-Chi smirked knowingly at her. The others looked away and continued with their lunch. Bulma dismissed them, savoring her brownie for the remainder of lunch, each bite making her feel a little more hopeful that what she and Vegeta had could be mended.

When school ended that afternoon, Vegeta was waiting for her outside her classroom, his foot propped against the wall, hand shoved in his pocket, glowering at everyone who walked past. Bulma smiled as she walked up to him. “Good day?” she asked him cheerily.

“Ng,” he replied, and he turned to walk, not bothering to see if she followed. She hurried to catch up and they headed out of school together. The day was bright, the wind cool. As they left the school gate, something dark at the end of the street caught Bulma’s eyes. She grabbed Vegeta’s arm, her fingers digging in to his flesh, pulling him back. “Vegeta,” she whispered, her voice strained.

He glanced in the direction she was looking. A black car was parked down the street, the windows tinted black, the roof a fold-down, although it was up at the moment to hide whoever was inside. The car suddenly revved its engine and sped off, speeding around the corner and driving out of sight.

Vegeta scowled, not looking pleased.

“Sh-should we call the police?” Bulma asked. 

“No point,” he replied, his tone flat. “The driver won’t be trying anything for a while, not if I’m here.”

Bulma still clung to his arm, looking up at him with big, worried eyes. “How can you be sure?”

He looked at her, his expression blank. “Your attack was a warning. My being here let’s them know it was received. You’re safe for now. Trust me.”

Bulma returned his look, searching his hard eyes. He gave her so little, but Bulma found herself trusting him. If she’d told anyone else that she trusted Vegeta, they’d have called her crazy, but there was something about him that she found reliable, dependable even. She nodded, giving Vegeta a gentle smile as she relaxed against him. “Okay.”

Vegeta arched a brow, surprised, as if he too thought she was crazy to trust him. He gave her a baffled look, then pried his arm out of her grip. “C’mon,” he said, taking her hand and leading them down the street. Bulma nearly tripped over her own feet in shock, feeling his strong hand wrapped warmly about her own. She struggled to fight a blush creeping up her cheeks as she settled her fingers between his. Her palm stung a little, her wounds still raw, but she wasn’t about to complain and risk Vegeta letting go of her hand. Bulma stared at him, trying to puzzle him out until he cast her an irritated, sidelong glance, letting her know she’d been caught. She ducked her head and they walked the rest of the way home, hand in hand.

Regrettably Vegeta let her hand go as soon as they arrived at the house, and he left to use the gym. She tried to protest, seeing as Vegeta was still injured, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He was more determined than usual to work out, the appearance of the car perhaps spurning him on, and Bulma had no choice but to let him go if she didn’t want an argument. She opted instead to help her mother cook a big, delicious meal to thank Vegeta for taking care of her. 

He was still working out when she finished, so she prepared a plate and took it to his room, placing the food on his desk. Looking around the bland space she was once again reminded how impersonal his room was. Did Vegeta have no hobbies or interests outside of training? No photographs, no sentimental items? It made her sad to think about. She made herself comfortable on his bed, laying down and pulling out her phone to surf the net while she waited for him to be done. 

A long while later, Bulma heard the sound of feet on the floor coming from the bathroom. Vegeta entered his room, spotting her instantly, his eyes raking over her before he looked away and headed to his closet to fetch some clothes. Bulma was having a hard time not staring at the sight of him, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a plain black t-shirt that clung nicely to his torso, and tight black boxer briefs that clung to… everything else below. She swallowed nervously and forced herself to look away, staring at her phone without seeing it, trying to beat back the burning in her cheeks, pretending not to be too interested  in his state of undress, lest he bark at her to leave.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling out a pair of track pants and slipping into them. He didn’t seem to care that he had an audience.

“Dinner,” Bulma indicated, keeping her eyes averted as she pointed to where his plate of food waited on his desk.

“And you had to stay to make sure I ate it?” he asked condescendingly as he went to investigate the food.

Bulma rolled over on the bed, looking at him now that it was safe to do so, stretching out her arms. “Nope. I just missed seeing your grumpy face.”

He scowled at her.

Bulma grinned. “That’s the one.”

“Tch,” he huffed, then turned away, ignoring her as he started to eat. The food was probably cool at this point, but it was a lot of his favorites, and she’d made sure there was a lot of it, figuring Vegeta would be hungry after working out. It seemed her hunch was correct as Vegeta didn’t bother with small talk, wolfing down the food as fast as he could swallow it. Bulma watched him, always amazed how much food he could pack away.

When he finished everything on the plate, he dropped it on the desk without so much as a thanks, and pulled out a book from his bag. He walked towards her and she scooted over on the bed to give him space. “Homework?” she asked.

Vegeta grunted as he sat down, putting a pillow against the wall to lean against. He opened his book and started reading, ignoring her. Bulma watched, waiting, but he didn’t kicked her out.

She continued to watched him study for a few more minutes, his brow ever so slightly furrowed in concentration. Her eyes darted down when he struggled to turn a page one handed, and she wondered if his broken arm was having any negative impacts on his school work. She hoped his grades wouldn’t start to fall because of his injuries. She looked at his broken arm, and it suddenly dawned on her how perfectly white his cast was. 

Having an idea, she bounced up off the bed. “I’ll be right back!” she announced, leaving the room quickly before he could tell her not to bother coming back. She grabbed some markers from her room and returned, but Vegeta hadn’t moved. She sat next to him by his broken arm, putting a pillow in her lap to prop his arm onto.

“And just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” he asked, glaring at her as she manhandled his arm.

Bulma smiled sweetly. “Signing your cast.”

Vegeta continued to glare at her. She smiled back. He narrowed his eyes. She tilted her head cutely. He sighed and he looked away, going back to his text book. Bulma raised a brow, surprised; she was sure she was going to have to argue with him about it, but Vegeta was surprisingly obliging. Perhaps the idea of getting his cast signed didn’t totally offend him, or maybe he was just happy she’d be distracted with his arm enough to leave him to his studies.

Whatever the reason, Bulma took advantage of his good mood and set about drawing on his cast. 

After twenty minutes, he finally glanced up at her. Seeing what she held, he scowled fiercely, dropping his book. “What the- Why is there a _pink_ marker in your hand?” he asked, his tone rising dangerously.

Bulma bashfully looked at him. “I’m uh… making you look less intimidating.”

Vegeta stared at her, aghast. He pushed her aside, climbing off the bed. “ _What did you do_?” he demanded, hurrying over to the mirror to see what she’d drawn. She held her breath. “Bulma…. What the _fuck_?!” he asked incredulously, staring at his reflection. On his cast in big black letters was the word BADMAN on a huge, fluorescent pink background.

Bulma fingered her markers, suddenly doubting herself. “I thought it would be funny… You know, ironic. You said yourself everyone just assumes you’re a bad guy, but when they see this, they’ll be less likely to think that, because it looks so…”

“Ridiculous?!”

“Cute,” she pouted.

“ _Cute_?! Do you _want_ me to get beaten up?” he snapped back at her, glaring at his cast in horror.

Bulma scoffed. “At our school? By who? You’re untouchable. I heard you beat up _Nappa_.”

“Who?”

“Nappa. Tall, brutish jock. Senior. Thinks he’s all that,” Bulma described the older boy.

“Oh, him,” Vegeta said dismissively.

Bulma arched a brow. “So it’s true?”

Vegeta smirked at her, looking smug and a little fiendish, and Bulma felt something hot coil in her belly. “I’d hardly call it much of a fight,” he gloated. “I’ve met his type before. They think they’re strong because they’re big, but they don’t know the first thing about real fighting.”

She had to agree with his assessment. Nappa had often caused trouble at the school, bullying others because he was the strongest, and getting away with it because he was good at sports. Vegeta on the other hand was only average height, and at a glance didn’t appear especially strong when he wore his baggy clothing to conceal his bruises. While Bulma knew better, most people that glanced at Vegeta probably didn’t think he was much of a threat, especially to someone like Nappa, and that had been the senior’s downfall. But now everyone at school knew Vegeta was bad news, his reputation proceeding him, and his intimidating personality and fighting skills more than made up for what he lacked in size.

“See? You don’t need to worry then,” Bulma said confidently. “If you can handle Nappa, you can handle anyone at our school. Besides, it’s permanent marker, so you’d best get used to it.” 

“ _Fantastic_ ,” Vegeta drawled sarcastically, taking one last glance at his cast in the mirror before he stomped back over to the bed. Bulma leapt out of his path, not wanting to incur his wrath further by getting in his way. As Vegeta settled on the bed to continue his studies, Bulma hesitantly picked up a sky blue marker.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” he growled at her, seeing her from the corner of his eye.

“But I haven’t even signed it _personally_ yet,” she whined. 

Vegeta snapped his book closed and glowered at her. “You’ve got _one minute_ , then I want you out of here.”

“But-”

“Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…”

Bulma screw up her nose, poking her tongue out at him before quickly getting to work. Vegeta stopped counting, but he continued to glare at her the whole time until Bulma felt herself turn pink under his intense scrutiny. _Don’t look up at him, don’t look up at him_ , she told herself, knowing that he was only inches away, his glare unsettling her in more ways than one. 

She finished signing his cast and grabbed up her markers with a few seconds left to spare. Vegeta turned his arm as best he could to look at her work. _Get well soon, [heart] Bulma,_ it read. “You rushed me, so it’s not very original,” Bulma mumbled self-consciously.

Vegeta frowned, grunting, before letting his arm drop to his side. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone oddly subdued.

“Well… goodnight then.” Bulma got up and started to leave.

“Hey.”

“Mmm?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Vegeta was still glaring at his book. “Re-tend to your injuries before you go to bed.”

Bulma looked down at her hands and knees, then back at Vegeta, smiling. “Yeah, thanks, I will.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “…Night.”

“Goodnight, Vegeta.” She smiled at him, then limped her way back to her room.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma was surprised when, the next morning, Vegeta came down to breakfast in a baggy short sleeved t-shirt, his decorated cast clearly on display. Mrs. Briefs made some comment about it being cute, and Vegeta grimaced, flashing Bulma an irritated look but otherwise saying nothing. He didn’t even put a jacket on when they left for school to cover up his cast. She was a little sad when he didn’t take her hand, but she was too baffled that he wasn’t hiding his cast to feel too hurt by it.

Once at school, the whole student body stared at his black and pink ‘BADMAN’, odd glances and hushed whispers following in his wake. He walked past everyone, ignoring them all like he usually did, apparently unaffected by the attention. 

At lunch in the cafeteria, her friends were also staring at Vegeta, flashing looks at his cast, him, and Bulma while they pretended not to. Goku, running late, finally joined the table, his lunch tray in his hands. He took one look at Vegeta before blurting out, “Oh cool, are we finally signing Vegeta’s cast? I want in!”

Vegeta nearly choked on his food. “Like _hell_.”

The whole table fell silent. Until now, no one besides Bulma had addressed Vegeta directly at lunch, and in turn he hadn’t acknowledge them. It had been an unspoken understanding that Goku had now broken, and no one quite knew how to respond.

Except Goku, who was oblivious to the situation. “Aw, c’mon Vegeta,” he wheedled. “We’re on the same team, right? We even brought you a card. You let Bulma sign your cast. Just let me sign something small, okay? It won’t take a minute.”

“Fuck off, you over grown clown,” Vegeta snapped back. 

Bulma stepped on Vegeta’s foot under the table. He gritted his teeth and glared at her.

“You could let him sign it, couldn’t you?” she asked quietly as everyone watched in fascinated horror, fearing for her sanity. “What’d it hurt? It’ll only take a second.”

Vegeta glowered at her, and for a tense moment it seemed like an argument might ensue. Then Vegeta looked away from her with a angry huff. “Tch, _whatever_. Just make it quick.”

Bulma beamed at him. The others at the table stared with wide eyes and open mouths, stunned that Vegeta had given in. Goku laughed happily. “Alright!” he said and fished around in his backpack for a marker. “It always cheered me up when I saw what my friends had written me when I broke a bone,” he said conversationally, not the least concerned by Vegeta’s foul temper.

Vegeta glowered at Goku the whole time. When Goku was done signing, Chi-Chi stood up, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. “I’m next!” she declared, and she butted her way in before Vegeta could tell her otherwise. Vegeta stared at her, dumbfounded as she wrote a get well message. Chi-Chi then threw the marker to Tien. “You’re up,” she said with a smile, and Tien was forced to sign. And that’s how, one by one, all the members of the fight crew signed Vegeta’s cast, excluding Yamcha who wasn’t present.

Bulma was utterly tickled, overjoyed to see her friends and Vegeta finally interacting. It would be good for Vegeta to have some camaraderie at school outside of her own company.

Later that evening in the gym, Piccolo allowed Vegeta to join some of the easier exercises that wouldn’t strain his injuries, and Bulma was at last able to watch him in action. Vegeta went through one of the katas with her friends. Despite his cast and mending ribs, he moved smoothly, powerfully, with practiced ease. It was almost hypnotic, and a lot impressive. She could see the tension in his muscles, the restrained power that bristled just under the surface as he went through each motion, all his focus on his body and movements, or so she thought until he finished the kata and glanced at her, as if knowing she’d been watching him the whole time. She blushed and gave him a sheepish wave. He looked away, but before he did, she caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You were really good,” she complimented him as they walked home.

“Tch, obviously,” he replied. “You’re only used to watching those buffoons. Now you’ll finally get to see what a real fighter looks like.”

Bulma resisted rolling her eyes. She had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing him train. If he was cocky, he had a right to be, damn him.

When they got home it was time for them to work on their project for their advanced class. They sat in her room at her floor table, Bulma looking in a book while Vegeta played with the cat who had snuck in, using his cast as a cat toy.

“You think you’re real fucking clever, don’t you,” Vegeta grouched at her, staring at the new signatures on his cast as Scratch clung to it, biting the cast ineffectually.

“About what?” Bulma asked innocently, watching him wrestle the cat.

“Don’t play coy,” Vegeta warned her. “You think I’m going to buddy up with your friends because they signed my cast? Tch, get real.”

Bulma shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in my beautiful, genius mind.”

“Nothing about covering up, that’s for sure,” Vegeta grouched, eyeing her blue tube top and white booty shorts, her clothing revealing far more skin than it covered.

Bulma arched a brow. “Now who’s the prude?” she countered.

“It’s bad manners,” he grouched, looking away. “Like waving a steak in front of a starving man.”

Bulma felt mixed emotions about being likened to a steak. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, huffing. “Well I’m not the one denying you your _steak_ ,” she said haughtily.

Vegeta glowered at her, but he didn't look terribly intimidating with a cat hanging off his arm. “We’ve been over this, Bulma. Nothing can happen between us. There’s too much at stake.”

Bulma sighed, resting her chin in her hand and looking at him with a pout. “I don’t know why you’re so stuck on that. So what if we date? If you’re worried about the relationship going sour, this house is so big you could hide from me indefinitely in a worst case scenario.”

Vegeta clenched his fist. “I’m not worried about that, you idiot, and if that’s your idea of ‘worst case’, you’re horribly naive. Besides, it’s our parents that’s the issue.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think they had their suspicions about us when they agreed to let you stay here?”

Vegeta sneered. “ _Exactly_. Why do you think my father warned me off you? Perhaps if you’d been more _modest_ when he met you, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Modest?!” Bulma replied back, her voice rising. “I was dressed head to toe in the hospital, and we were playing _chess_ when he met me. How much more modest could I be?”

“Well… _more_ , clearly, because my dad caught on pretty quick, didn’t he?”

Bulma huffed, feeling her temper rise. “Or _maybe_ , because he seems like a smart guy, he just recognized that I’m an attractive girl your age and that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself around me!”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Vegeta scoffed. 

Bulma bristled at his quick dismissal of her proposition. “Ugh, you’re such an _asshole_ ,” she yelled at him, infuriated at his condescending tone. “I can’t _believe_ I like you!” She stood up, fuming, and stormed over to her cupboard. She started to pull off her tube top, wriggling angrily as she struggled to get the tight garment off.

“Wh… what are you doing?” Vegeta asked, his voice rising.

“Changing into something more _modest_ for His _Highness_ , Prince Vegeta!” she spat back, her voice muffled as she pulled the top over her head, now only wearing a strapless bra. 

“Jesus Christ, Bulma, I’m _right here_!”

Bulma threw her top aside and put a hand on her hip, glaring at him. “What’s wrong? You were just bragging a moment ago that you could control yourself around me, so what’s the big deal?”

“Put that back on before someone comes in and gets the wrong idea, for fucks sake,” Vegeta snapped. He dislodged Scratch from his arm and stood up, grabbing her tossed aside top and approaching her with it.

Bulma stuck her nose up. “I don’t like that shirt anymore, it’s not _modest_ enough.”

“Bulma,” Vegeta growled warningly. “Put your goddamn. Arms. Up. Now.”

Bulma glared at him, but his glare back was far more intimidating. She gave in with an exaggerated sigh, raising her arms above her head. 

He pulled the blue tube top down over her arms, but when he reached her shoulders he started to struggle, having only one good arm to work with. He had to tug the shirt inch by inch over her, stretching the tight material to its limit.

“Goddamnit… Fuck, Bulma, this thing is too tight,” he complained, blushing furiously as he fought to get it over her bust without groping her.

Bulma’s cheeks were also red as he awkwardly manhandled her. “It’s supposed to be tight, jackass, or it’d just fall down… And you’re doing it wrong, you need both hands to stretch it out evenly to get it on.”

“Tch! I don’t have _that_ luxury do I? Just… give me a second,” he complained, tugging uselessly.

“I hope you’re better at taking clothes off than putting them on,” she grumbled, then instantly regretted her words when he gave her a furious, incredulous look. She blushed and pressed her lips together, looking away.

Vegeta tugged hard on the fabric, still trying to pull it into place. He gave it a particularly vicious yank which forced the air out of her lungs. “Ah~!” she cried out, her voice embarrassingly breathy. She put her hand over her mouth, sure her face was turning redder than a firetruck. This was getting ridiculous, she sounded like a porn star, and being half undressed in front of him wasn’t helping the issue. She had to stop him before she humiliated herself any further. “V-Vegeta, just let me-”

“No, I can do this,” he said stubbornly, giving the shirt another tug as if by getting her dressed he could dissolve the awfully compromising situation.

“ _Ah~n_!” Bulma whimpered and staggered forward, catching herself on his chest. His tugging had caused her bra to slip, rubbing against her nipples, nearly popping her bust out of her top. She kept her head lowered, humiliated at the sounds she was making. He froze, his chest rising and falling hard beneath her hands.

“Stop making such embarrassing sounds!” he gritted out.

Bulma pressed a hand to her face, mortified. “I can’t help it when you’re jerking me around like that, i-idiot!” She sucked in a breath to try and calm herself, still leaning against him, her half-exposed chest pressing against him. She reached up to push his hand away. “Vegeta, just-”

He grabbed her wrist and shoved it against the wall, leaning in to crush his hot mouth to hers. He pressed his weight against her, trapping her beneath his broad chest, kissing her deeply, demanding her submission. Bulma moaned, her eyelids fluttering shut, willingly giving in, melting between him and the wall. The kiss went on for what felt like a lifetime, his mouth moving against hers, a starving man ravaging his first steak in weeks. His hard thigh pushed between her legs, grinding against her. Even the fingers of his broken arm grabbed at her waist, pinning her hip to the wall. But then all too soon he broke away, panting against her bruised lips.

“…. Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his brow against her shoulder, hunching over her as he berated himself. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …”

Bulma was glad he was weighted against her because she wasn’t certain she’d be able to stand of her own volition. “Are those good expletives, or…?” she asked uncertainly.

“What did you _do_ to me, Bulma?” he whispered, his voice so hoarse she could barely make out his words. She was too stunned to reply, her lips still tingling, her breath stolen from her, the taste of him still on her tongue.

“I’ve never had problems with self control before,” he gritted out. “Then _you_ come along and suddenly I’m so damned _frustrated_ I feel as though I could blow up half a city with what I’m suppressing.”

Bulma’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she gave a soft, airy laugh, flattered and amused at his confession. She boldly curled her finger into the belt loop on his trousers, tugging him in closer. “Only _half_ a city?” she asked coyly.

Vegeta made a frustrated sound, almost a growl that sent a thrill of pleasure right between her thighs. He lifted his head, his arm resting by the side of her face, his bicep bulging, still trapping her wrist to the wall. He stared right at her, his eyes dark, sparking with something hungry and untamed, a wildness desperate to be released, thrashing to be free and have at her. Bulma felt her pulse pick up at the sight of it, losing herself in his eyes, and she knew in that moment that he could have asked anything of her, and she’d have willing given it. 

Then the intensity in Vegeta’s gaze clouded over, his eyes flickering with anguish and he looked away. “I’m going to work out,” he announced to her dismay.

“But… you were just at practice,” she protested.

Vegeta grunted. “Apparently I still have energy to burn,” he replied dryly, then looked back at her with frustration. “And I need to take a long, cold shower.”

“Don’t,” she begged softly, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

Vegeta clenched his teeth, resisting. “Life’s unfair, Bulma. Get used to it.”

“Life isn’t unfair. Leaving me here like this is unfair,” she pouted.

“Life is very unfair for those of us living in the _real_ world, not living like some spoilt princess who can get her way just by fluttering her eyelashes,” Vegeta snapped back.

Bulma scowled at him. “The princess life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll have you know. Besides, it’s been treating _you_ pretty well lately.”

 “Tch, I’m leaving,” Vegeta said and he stepped back, letting her go. Bulma instantly felt the loss, staggering forward. She was aching, throbbing, and her wrist hurt from where he’d been pinning her. She rubbed it and noticed his eyes glance at her hand, lingering to see if he’d unintentionally hurt her.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, nothing’s broken.”

His gaze snapped up to hers. “Did I ask?”

“Just with your eyes,” Bulma said smugly. Vegeta sneered and started to storm out. “Wait,” Bulma stopped him, her heart sinking. “Are you really just going to leave? What about us?”

Vegeta gave her a long, hard stare. “What ‘us’?”

Bulma swallowed, trying not to let his words sting. “Don’t even try to pretend there’s nothing between us after you just molested me.”

Vegeta scowled and looked away, color rising to his cheeks. “It won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?” Bulma pressed, her hand clenching over her stomach anxiously.

Vegeta made a frustrated sound. “Damnit, Bulma, how many times do we have to go over this? I won’t disobey my father.”

“Vegeta-”

“No more, woman. Leave me be,” Vegeta snapped and he stormed out of the room. Bulma didn’t chase after him. She could still feel the ghost of his lips crushed against her own. She listened to him storm away to his own room, slamming the door behind him.

She sadly pulled her top into place and sat down on a cushion, staring at the spot Vegeta had been sitting in, where Scratch now cleaned his paws.

She frowned, scheming. Time, she decided, would be her friend. If Vegeta wanted to play the dutiful son, then so be it. He obviously needed time to get used to his new home and situation. Hopefully, along the way, he would realize his father was being overly protective; denying them wasn’t worth the agony he was putting himself and Bulma through. And if he didn’t figure that out on his own, well…sooner or later, Vegeta was going to learn that no one could out-stubborn Bulma Briefs.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 ..... Art by [SharkShark](https://twitter.com/GalacticShark17) **(galacticshark17)**

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/SharkShark_FriendsBadman01_zpskaaclsc4.png.html)

 

**_AN:_ **

_Thanks ever so much for all the lovely reviews, you can’t imagine how much joy it brings to get them and how encouraging it is to keep writing to know that people are enjoying the story! So as always, I’d love to know your thoughts on this chapter! :)_

_I added a couple snippets/scenes to this chapter after my initial first draft, so it’s quite a bit longer than I’d initially planned. You’re welcome :P_

_Next chapter to be up ASAP!_


	12. 12 - Warned

_Holy sh*t guys, I have_ **_fanart_ ** _^_^ - checkout_ **_GalacticShark17_ ** _on twitter for an awesome picture of a beat-up Vegeta inspired by this story. I’ve been promised color and bruises in a few days time!_

_Link for the lazy: [Http (colon)(2 forward slashes) tinyurl (dot) com(forward slash) ztu3q72 ]_

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.12 - Warned**

 

Time passed, and Bulma and Vegeta fell into a comfortable routine. Vegeta continued to walk Bulma to and from school each day, keeping an eye out for any strange activity, but the dark tinted car didn’t return, just as he predicted. On their walks, Bulma kept things friendly, speaking and joking with Vegeta while he occasionally grunted, or if he was in a good mood, made some snarky reply. 

At school during lunch period, the whole gang would dine together; Vegeta mostly kept to himself, but now and then someone would included him in the conversation, or he would interject a comment, usually an insult, but the fact of the matter was he was slowly becoming a part of their crew. Yamcha was even eating with them again, and though he looked disgusted with Vegeta’s presence and pained by Bulma’s, he mostly ignored them, talking with Goku and the others.

At home, Vegeta mostly kept to himself, working out and studying, leaing Bulma to look forward to nights after practice when she and Vegeta would have their study sessions for their school project. Vegeta didn’t talk much, but Bulma made up for it, speaking about whatever came to mind, and if Vegeta didn’t engage with her directly, he also didn’t tell her to shut up. She could see he was listening by the way he’d glance at her when as she paused mid sentence, or the sneers or smiles he would make at her anecdotes. She found it pleasant to be in his company, even if they couldn’t cuddle or make out, and so Bulma didn’t push him. If Vegeta wasn’t comfortable disobeying his father yet, then she had to respect that; she didn’t want Vegeta to resent her, and it gave her time to wrap her mind around her own feelings. Everything had happened so fast since Vegeta’s arrival and her break up with Yamcha, so it was nice to finally have some time to breathe and think about what she really wanted. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to get to know Vegeta more, and to try and recapture that special moment they’d shared when he’d kissed her breathless in her room and stayed the night, in spite of the punishment he knew he’d receive for breaking his curfew.

But patience was the key word. All good things come to those who wait.

Bulma had started choosing outfits that, while cute, were a little less revealing so as not to incite any further lapses of self-control such as what had happened with her infamous blue tube-top. If Vegeta noticed her fashion efforts, he made no comment one way or another. Bulma also refrained from making any sexual comments or advances, and while she congratulated herself for her efforts, she still found herself staring at him as they studied together, or walking closer to him than was necessary when they went to school together. Vegeta never called her out for it, and Bulma didn’t know whether to be thankful or frustrated for his silence. 

That’s how the days passed for them, the two content to just to be friends, for a while.

In their next PE class, Bulma and Chi-Chi were put in charge of picking teams. Chi-Chi’s first choice was Goku, naturally, but to the class’s surprise, Bulma’s first pick was Vegeta, despite his unfavorable reputation and broken arm. The whispers started immediately, but Vegeta looked unfazed, going to stand behind Bulma like a silent guardian while she picked the rest of her team. She very decidedly didn’t pick Yamcha. The class went smoothly, and Vegeta proved his worth by scoring the most on their team, although he didn’t win any fans, his sportsmanship poor, choosing to win through brute force rather than engage in any team work. Bulma was amused, but she caught sight of Yamcha, glaring at Vegeta in disgust.

After class, as Bulma was leaving the changing rooms, she heard a familiar voice. “Hey, got a minute?”

She turned and saw Yamcha standing there, his hands pushed into his pockets bashfully. Bulma felt a rush of emotions at seeing him before her, sorrow, annoyance, betrayal… their break up was still fresh in her mind, but the feelings that rose up were brief, and she was able to let them go just as easily. She’d made her peace with the end of their relationship weeks ago.

She nodded at Yamcha, putting a friendly smile on her face. “Sure, Yamcha. What’s up?”

Yamcha indicated they step to the side of the hallway. He cleared his throat nervously, then scratched the back of his head. “Look, Bulma, um… You can stop trying to make me jealous by hanging out with Vegeta now.”

Bulma blinked, taking a minute to process what he was saying. “…What?”

Yamcha’s eyes darted to hers, then away, and he scuffed his foot on the linoleum floor. “I get it, okay? You’re mad that I cheated, and you want to rub it in my face. And I totally deserve that after how I betrayed you. But if you’re going to make me jealous, please do it with someone else, _anyone_ else, just not him, alright?”

“What?” Bulma repeated again, totally dumbfounded.

Yamcha continued as if he hadn’t heard her, his brows knitted in frustration, working himself up. “You’ve proved your point, okay? But enough is enough. I don’t trust that guy. Vegeta’s shady, and violent. Pretty much _any_ other guy at this school is better boyfriend material than Vegeta, I’m begging you.”

Bulma could feel her eyebrows rise higher and higher as Yamcha rambled on. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Yamcha…. Do you think I’m _dating_ Vegeta?” she asked, amazed that he would think so. If _only_ they were dating, she could barely get Vegeta to speak a sentence to her, let alone date her.

Yamcha quirked a brow. “You’re not? Well, it sure seems that way, with how you two are always together, and now you’re picking him first in gym over your friends.”

Bulma frowned. “I’m not picking him _over_ my friends. Vegeta _is_ my friend. Besides, I’m always around Goku, does that mean _we’re_ dating?”

Yamcha gave her a condescending look. “You know that’s not the same. Besides, Goku isn’t some shady, single guy _living_ with you. Ugh, just the thought of what that creep could be doing at your house, in your room, when you’re asleep or in the shower…” Yamcha growled, clenching a fist.

Bulma felt her cheeks color at Yamcha’s implications. “You have _no right_ to be thinking about anything that’s going on at my house, Yamcha. You lost those privileges. And Vegeta has been a perfect gentleman,” _mostly_ , she added to herself, _if stuck up, surly and indifferent can be considered gentlemanly_. “He hardly even acknowledges that I exist… Not that it’s any of your business.”

Yamcha looked sulky. “I’m just worried about you-”

“Well stop,” she cut him off huffily. “I’m no longer yours to worry about.”

“Bulma,” Yamcha sighed, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration. “Would you just consider what I’m saying, okay? You’re just latching onto Vegeta to spite me, maybe not consciously, but you are, and I think you’re putting yourself in a lot of danger because of it. I mean, there was already that incident with you and the car. Are you telling me that had nothing to do with Vegeta?”

Bulma balked, then quickly composed herself. She couldn’t think of an answer to give Yamcha without proving his point, and she hated that. She thinned her mouth unhappily, clenching a fist on her hip and poking Yamcha in the chest with her other hand. When in doubt, deflect. “You know what, Yamcha? For someone claiming not to be jealous, you sound awfully like a jealous ex. For the last time, what I do, who I see, and what the consequences might be is none of your business anymore, or did you forget we broke up?”

“Bulma, I’m… I’m still your friend, aren’t I?” Yamcha asked, sounding hurt.

Bulma looked at his kicked-puppy expression and felt her anger fizzle out. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Well… of course, Yamcha.”

Yamcha gave her a weak smile which she feebly returned. He reached out, pulling her in for a hug that she hesitantly accepted, letting him squeeze her and rub her back. “I’m so glad! So, you’ll stop seeing Vegeta?” he asked hopefully.

Bulma stiffened in his arms. She shoved her hands against Yamcha’s chest, pushing him away. “Seriously?” she shouted, feeling her temper drastically spike. “Damnit, Yamcha, you’re so completely dense! Did you not hear anything I just said? You don’t get to tell me who I see.”

“But-“

“No buts! If I want to see Vegeta, I will. If I want to date him, or fuck him, I will, and that’s that. In fact, I think I’ll go fuck him right now! Is that what you want to hear, that we’ve been fucking? Well congratulations, we’ve been having loads of sex. _Buckets_ of it. He’s pleasured me in ways I could never have dreamed of. There, are you happy now, does that make you feel better?” She shouted at him, exasperated. 

Yamcha looked appalled, but Bulma’s attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. Her eyes darted past Yamcha, across the hall to where Vegeta was standing with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, watching them squabble with a raised brow. 

Bulma felt her face flare up red in embarrassment. Yamcha followed her gaze and saw Vegeta; his expression darkened, his shoulders tensing. 

Vegeta slowly walked over to them. Bulma looked away, humiliated to think he’d heard her vulgar tirade. “Are you coming to lunch?” Vegeta asked her neutrally, completely ignoring Yamcha.

Bulma looked up at him, raising a brow. Vegeta had never asked her to lunch before. In fact, he’d rarely asked her anywhere, or deliberately sought out her company. Vegeta had just… put up with her. She wondered if this was his way of rescuing her from her conversation with Yamcha. “Um, yes,” she replied, her voice stiff, grateful to get out of her argument with her ex.

Vegeta grunted and headed off, and she started to follow.

“Bulma-” Yamcha protested. She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. Yamcha was staring at her, his expression hopeless and gut wrenching to see.

Vegeta stopped. He reached out and took Bulma’s hand. “Come on. You’re done here,” he said firmly.

Surprised, Bulma turned her head to meet Vegeta’s eyes. They were dark and captivating, their depths sucking her in, making her forget all about Yamcha. She felt hypnotized by their intensity, and she nodded, helpless. Bulma followed after Vegeta, feeling her heart in her throat as he pulled her away by her hand. Damn the power he held over her.

She almost missed the glance back Vegeta made. She turned; Yamcha was fuming, glaring spitefully at Vegeta. Her eyes darted up and caught the vindictive smirk on Vegeta’s lips as he glanced away.

Vegeta was gloating.

When they were out of Yamcha’s line of sight, Bulma pulled her hand out of his. “What was that?” she asked.

“What was what?” he replied, his face once again carefully schooled into indifference.

“You were egging him on,” she accused, pointing a finger at his chest.

Vegeta shifted his weight, shoving his hand into his pocket, standing before her, cocksure. “So what if I was?”

Bulma pursed her lips. “Are you trying to start a fight?”

Vegeta smirked. “It’d hardly be worthy of being called a fight if he tried. Your ex is a weakling and what’s more, he’s clearly not over you. You’re too soft on him. You need to cut him off or he’ll keep clinging to hope that you’ll forgive him.”

Bulma’s eyes bulged. She couldn’t believe she was getting dating advice from Vegeta. Like he had any right when his own romantic methods seemed to involve a big fat serving of denial. It ticked her off, and she wanted to return the feeling. Bulma stuck up her nose. “Who said I wouldn’t forgive him?”

Vegeta sneered, not taking the bait. “You’re not that dumb. Your ex is filth. He walked all over your relationship with that slut, and who knows how many other girls. That doesn’t seem worthy of your forgiveness, or your time.”

Bulma arched a brow. “ _You’re_ warning me off Yamcha? That’s ironic, because he was just warning me off you, too, saying you were no good.”

Vegeta frowned, and his posture shifted subtly. His self assured stance closed in, his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching. She’d struck a nerve, but she couldn’t tell why, she only knew she instantly regretted what she’d said. When he spoke to her his tone was flat, detached. “I’m sure he did. After all, what the fuck would someone like me have to offer someone like you?”

“Vegeta-” she protested.

He cut her off. “Just shut up. Whatever he said, it doesn’t change the fact that he has proven himself to be _weak_ and unworthy of you.” His words were cold, brimming with unspoken fury. She wasn’t prepared for so much vehemence. Was he angry _at_ her, or _for_ her? 

She sighed, shaking her head, Vegeta’s thinking a total mystery to her. What happened to make both Yamcha and Vegeta think they could suddenly run her life for her? “I don’t understand you guys. You have such funny notions about telling women what to do when you don’t even know what to do with yourselves.”

“Tch.”

She looked at his irritated expression, bewildered by it. “Where is this even coming from, Vegeta?” she asked him, baffled that he suddenly cared so much about her relationship with Yamcha. 

He glanced at her, his expression guarded, his eyes suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” she repeated, half laughing in exasperation. “You know, you’re doing a really great job of playing the boyfriend role, despite your protestations to the contrary. You came over and took my hand, ‘rescued’ me from my ex, lectured me about him… And you’re accusing _me_ of giving _Yamcha_ mixed messages? What am I supposed to do with what you’re giving me, huh?”

Vegeta scowled at her, a faint blush staining his cheeks as the implication of her words sunk in. “Don’t be an idiot,” he brushed her words off, refusing to acknowledge them. “If you’re too dense to take my advice, so be it. I’m going to lunch. You can come or not, it makes no difference to me.” He turned on his heel to leave.

Worried she’d pushed him too hard, expected too much from him too soon, Bulma reached out, grabbing his hand before he could walk off. He paused, looking down at their hands, then he glanced up at her, his expression vexed but he didn’t pull away.

Bulma gave him a small, hopeful smile. “Don’t be angry, please.”

“I’m not,” he scowled, his face belying his words.

Bulma gave him a skeptical look. “You _look_ angry.”

He sneered. “Because I’m constantly surrounded by infuriating people.”

“Even me?” she pouted cutely.

“You’re the worst one of all,” he snapped back.

Bulma scowled. She let go of his hand, giving him a little shove. “Asshole. I’m the only person who’s ever nice to you.”

“Exactly!” he replied, exasperated. “It’s maddening.”

Bulma had nothing to say to that, bewildered by his comment and the expression on his face, as if her very existence confounded him. What went on in that head of his, she wondered, that he would be infuriated by her being _nice_? Sometimes it felt like she and Vegeta were speaking two different languages with each other, that they were from two different worlds, constantly at cultural odds.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Why am I cursed to suffer men like you in my life?” she said to the heavens. “I need to find a _nice_ boy and stop courting arrogant asswipes.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowing, his head shifting to the side to take her in. “Suffer?” he asked scornfully.

She glared back at him, crossing her arms. “Yes. Suffer.” 

He continued to consider her. Then, he smirked. 

It felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. Bulma damned him that he could have such a strong effect on her as she felt a hot, coiling shiver radiate from her belly in response to his cheshire grin. 

Vegeta came towards her, a powerful, virile panther prowling his territory, having spotted a curiosity in need of sniffing out. Bulma’s heart rate accelerated wildly as he advanced on her, and against her will she stepped back. He backed her up against the corridor wall, propping his arm above her head and leaning in towards her. His smirk widened, the pull of his lips tugging on her lower belly, desire pooling in her lower regions.

“Bulma,” he said, and she quivered as he said her name in his low, bedroom voice. “You’re blushing.”

His words struck her, hard. He was right, of course, she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. She felt compelled to clamp her thighs together in defense. She glared at Vegeta spitefully for undoing her so easily, and worse, teasing her about it. “So?”

“You don’t look like you’re suffering to me,” he said, almost purring the words, relishing the way she squirmed beneath him. “I think you’re enjoying it.”

Bulma glared at him, her embarrassment fueling her anger. “ _I’m_ enjoying this? What about _you_? After all, this situation seems _really_ familiar, let me think. Oh yes, it’s just like the time _you_ kissed me in my bedroom against my will. It’s like you can’t keep away from me.”

His eyes narrowed at her, his smile dangerous. “Against _whose_ will? As I recall, you were _begging_ me to stay.”

Bulma blushed harder and looked away from him. Vegeta was making her uncomfortable, she didn’t know what game he was playing but she could feel herself losing. “Yet you didn’t,” she replied softly, half sulking.

He leaned in further, his breath ghosting the nape of her neck. She sucked in a short breath in response, hardly able to breathe, her body vibrating with tension. He purred his words against her ear. “Well, I can’t always be expected to pleasure you in ways you’ve never dreamed of.”

Bulma’s eyes widened, hearing the words she’d flung at Yamcha thrown back at her. Vegeta was teasing her, punishing her for what she’d said to her ex. She thinned her mouth stubbornly. “If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny,” she replied, her heart beating wildly in her chest at his nearness.

“Says you,” he countered, leaning back enough to look at her, his eyes dancing merrily.

“Yes, says me,” she snapped back, glaring at him. “Being snide and sarcastic isn’t the same as being funny, especially when it’s at the expense of my feelings that you so clearly don’t give a damn about.”

Vegeta’s smile disappeared, the spark in his eyes fading. He opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, then pressed his mouth shut. He stepped back, letting her go. He stood before her awkwardly, a slight frown on his brow, his gaze clouded over, averted.

Bulma peeled off from the wall, more confused than ever. _She_ should be the one upset right now, not him, but Vegeta looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. Bulma wondered if she would ever understand him. Neither of them spoke for several long seconds. 

“…Let’s just go to lunch,” she finally suggested to break the awkward silence. He looked at her, and she looked back with a faint smile. “Your brownie isn’t going to eat itself, is it?”

Vegeta’s gaze was uncertain. He stared at her for a moment before his features smoothed out and his surly mask fell back into place, secreting away whatever he was feeling behind. He was once again his usual self. “Who says you get my brownie?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “I do, and I’m the genius here, so that makes me right,” she replied confidently. They were falling back into their comfortable roles, for better or for worse.

Vegeta scoffed at her comment but didn’t deny her. They headed to lunch together, and as she predicted, Vegeta handed her his dessert. Bulma noticed Yamcha glowering at her as she accepted it. She tried to ignore him, doing her best to play it casual, but inwardly she was swimming with new doubts. Vegeta’s warning played in her mind; was she leading Yamcha on by trying to remain friendly with him? And was she leading herself on about Vegeta, deluding herself about their relationship? What had all that in the hallway been about? Bulma was starting to feel like she was at a severe disadvantage; Vegeta held all the cards, leaving her to dangle on a string at his pleasure. She was even doubting if he felt the same way about her as she did him. What was she to him? An amusement? Forbidden fruit? An obligation? Bulma knew it hadn’t felt that way when they’d kissed, but that night when they’d broken through being ‘just friends’ to ‘something more’ was so long ago now, and she wondered if they could ever go back to that place. Bulma was full of doubts, and Vegeta was giving her conflicting messages that did little to lessen them.

Chi-Chi also didn’t help alleviate her fears when the two girls went shopping a few days later. “So what’s the deal with you and Vegeta?” Chi-Chi asked as they looked at clothes. 

Bulma shrugged, hoping she wasn’t projecting her inner turmoil on her face. “We’re uh… um… Well, it’s a little complicated now that he’s living with us.”

Chi-Chi gave her a skeptical look. “Shouldn’t that make things _easier_?”

Bulma sighed, deflating. “Apparently Vegeta’s father told him to keep his hands to himself.”

Chi-Chi arched an brow, amused. “Vegeta doesn’t seem the type to listen to authority.”

Bulma nodded. “I know, but his father is something of an exception,” she said, frowning as she did so. Vegeta did seem more of the rebel type, but she’d also seen the respectful way he acted around her parents, and he was cordial to a fault around his own father, from what little interaction she had seen at the hospital. “It could be his military upbringing,” Bulma guessed.

Chi-Chi looked surprised. “Vegeta’s had military training?”

Bulma shrugged. “Well, his father is a Lieutenant General, so he’s probably had a pretty strict childhood, I’d wager.”

Chi-Chi nodded thoughtfully. “That might explain some things. So… Because of his dad, does that mean you two aren’t…?”

Bulma shook her head sadly. “We’re barely friends,” she confessed, then hesitated. She wondered if she should tell Chi-Chi about the recent kiss, but she decided against it. It wasn’t something she was ready to share yet, and she got the impression Chi-Chi wouldn’t approve.

Chi-Chi shrugged. “Well, maybe he’s just not that into you, which is probably for the best, hun. To be honest, Vegeta seems more trouble than he’s worth. Besides, you don’t want to marry into the military, too much fighting and testosterone. You want a smart husband, someone equal to yourself.”

Bulma scowled, not much caring for Chi-Chi’s words. “Wow Chi-Chi, there is so much wrong with what you just said. _First_ of all, I can’t believe you’re ragging on the military, you’re a fighter yourself AND dating one.”

“Exactly, learn from my mistakes.”

“Uh-huh. _Second_ ,” Bulma continued. “I doubt there’s anyone out there mentally equal to myself who would also interest me, besides, Vegeta is pretty smart. And _third_ \- and _most_ importantly - I’m not even looking for a husband at all, Jesus, we’re still in school, Chi-Chi!”

But Chi-Chi only seemed to be half listening, more interested in the clearance section that Bulma’s protests. The whole conversation left Bulma feeling rather dissatisfied, all riled up with no means to vent her frustration. She found herself hoping Vegeta would be around when she got home, he always provided a good fight to let off some steam.

Bulma was in luck for when she arrived home from the mall, Vegeta was in the kitchen eating a late dinner. She watched him from the kitchen entryway. He was hunched over the counter, putting large spoonfuls of food into his mouth, the muscles under his shirt rippling as he fed. Just looking at him filled her with various emotions - most notably longing, for what she couldn’t have, and prickles of energy, for the fight she was going to instigate. She tried to ignore the warmer feeling in the pit of her belly he instilled in her, but the more she tried to ignore it, the more it swelled up, enveloping her like a blanket, soft and comforting. That’s what it was; she felt _comfortable_ around Vegeta. There was no pretense with him, no acting or fake smiles or putting on airs. Just comforting familiarity… and a bristling lust that she had to divert into anger, lest she do something to embarrass them both.

“You’re staring,” Vegeta suddenly said, startling her out of her reverie. He didn’t even look up, but somehow he knew she was there.

That irritated her. Not a lot, but it was enough, and she used that to get her going, aching for a fight if Vegeta wouldn’t play nice and satisfy her other aches. 

She walked over and stood in front of him, glaring. “If I’m staring it’s because you’re moving weird,” she said snottily. It wasn’t true, but she dangled the verbal hook, hoping he’d engage her.

Vegeta stopped eating, looking at her, stunned. Then his eyes narrowed. “ _You_ noticed?”

Bulma blinked, fighting back surprise. Okay, _that_ was not the reaction she had been expecting. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “Of course,” she replied haughtily, bluffing. “I’m not an idiot.”

Vegeta frowned, still surprised by her observation. “Hm… Well, it’s nothing. Just a pulled muscle.”

All thoughts of arguing fled her mind at his comment. Her back straightened, alarmed. “What did you do?” she asked, concerned. “Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it usually means it’s something. Did you get into another fight?”

Vegeta’s expression showed his displeasure. “Do I look like I did? Don’t jump to conclusions. I just over-did it in your gym.”

“ _Our_ gym,” Bulma corrected him, reminding him this was as much his home now as hers. “Show me.”

Vegeta gave her an incredulous look. “The gym?”

“Your injury, dummy,” Bulma snapped, putting a hand on her hip. “For all I know you’re putting on a brave face while hiding a slipped disk.”

“Hardly,” Vegeta drawled, his expression annoyed by her lack of faith.

“Show me,” Bulma insisted, not backing down. Then she got an idea, and she felt an evil smile creep onto her face. She leaned in close to him, letting her expression grow smug. “Show me, or I’ll tell my father you kissed me.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened, then just as quickly narrowed, his expression darkening. “You’d _blackmail_ me?”

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Vegeta’s lip curled up in a silent snarl, his hand tightening on his fork. Then he threw the utensil down on his plate and reached to pull off his top. He yanked the fabric off angrily, baring his torso to her, fully exposed in the sharp kitchen light. Bulma had to resist a look of pity as all his scars, old and new, were suddenly revealed, and boy, were there _a lot_.

“Here,” Vegeta spat out, pointing at a spot on his back. “I pulled a muscle here. You can’t even see anything can you? Satisfied now?”

Bulma couldn’t reply, words failing her. He was littered with damage, and those were just the ones that left visible marks. Vegeta had suffered so much abuse over the years. It wasn’t fair, it tore her up to see. She came around behind him, glad he wouldn’t be able to see her expression, knowing he’d loathe her pity. She reached out, gently pressing her fingers to the spot Vegeta was indicating. His flesh felt warm to the touch, almost burning, his skin smooth and pliable over his rigid muscles.

“Does this hurt?” she asked softly as she pressed, her voice hoarse from held-back emotion.

He was facing forward, his shoulders hunched, still still mad at her. His back seemed broader than she remembered, his efforts in the gym paying off. He let his hand fall away and he grunted indifferently. “Not really.”

Bulma placed her thumb to the spot and started massaging it, gently at first, then with more pressure when Vegeta didn’t flinch in pain. “Is this okay?” she asked.

She half expected a snarky reply, but none came. Vegeta bowed his head and grunted again, softer this time. “Yeah…”

Bulma smiled, hearing the relief in his voice; he was enjoying it. She thought about how hard he trained despite his injuries, barely resting, never seeking any relief. She thought about his life too, what little she knew of it, and wondered if this was the first time anyone had touched him gently in months, or years. Or ever. It made her heart ache, and Bulma found herself determined to give Vegeta all the nice things he’d always been denied.

She brought her other hand up to join her first, letting her thumbs do most of the work, pressing into his muscles, gliding over his perfect back, feeling every little scar. She started on the place he’d indicated, but soon she let her hands trail up the length of his spine, towards his shoulders, pressing firmly. She could feel him relax little by little beneath her. She rubbed her thumbs in hard, broad circles against his shoulders, then worked her way slowly down along his spine. She pressed firmly, massaging the dip in his lower back, and Vegeta let out a long, relieved moan. He sank forward, resting his head on his forearm, giving in to her touch. 

She smiled in triumph. She finally had Vegeta at the mercy of her hands, but all she wanted to do was continue touching him and making him feel good. She doubted he’d ever let his guard down this way in front of anyone else before, and she was flattered and determined to not let him down, and to give him the best massage of his goddamn life. She soon lost herself in the act, enjoying the chance to touch his body without restraint, taking every little moan and sigh of pleasure from him as a personal victory. He groaned in gratification when her fingers worked his neck and and put pressure at the base of his skull, massaging away his tension. She pushed her long fingers against his scalp, slipping them through his thick hair, and Vegeta shuddered in pleasure, his fingers curling.

It was everything she could do to not drape herself against his strong back as he made noises, laying sprawled half naked at her mercy, totally vulnerable. But Bulma restrained herself, letting her fingers alone express the desire she had to be all over Vegeta like chocolate syrup melting over ice cream.

She ended the massage by working the troubled area one final time before her fingers trailed away. As soon as she stopped she regretted not being able to touch him more. She patted Vegeta on the arm, moving to his side to look at him. “Better?” she asked, forcing cheeriness into her voice to hide her regret and desire.

Vegeta grunted, not wanting to move, but slowly he uncurled, sitting up. He blinked languidly as though waking from a long slumber. His eyes slid over to her briefly before slipping away, almost embarrassed. He wiped a hand over his face, nodding. 

Bulma smiled, bemused by his actions; perhaps he’d been on the verge of sleep. It was odd and endearing to see Vegeta so subdued. “Why don’t you go on up? I can clean up after you,” she offered, feeling generous.

Vegeta shook his head, fisting his shirt in his lap, not looking at her. “I’m fine here.”

Bulma cocked her head. “Really, it’s no trouble,” she insisted. “You should rest up.”

“I can rest up plenty right _here_ ,” he snapped back.

“Okay. _Fine_ , whatever,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at his touchiness. Her eyes rested on his shirt. “Why don’t I help you with that,” she suggested, reaching for his top so that he wouldn’t have to struggle to dress with his cast.

Vegeta reeled back, smacking her hand away. Bulma clutched her stinging hand to her chest, startled. They stared at each other a moment, both of them stunned, before Vegeta looked away, scowling in embarrassment.

Bulma didn’t know what to think of his behavior. She pursed her lips and scowled. “Why are you being so stubborn? I’m trying to be nice here.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth. “Did I _ask_ you to be?”

She flung her hands in the air, exasperated. “The point of being nice is that you don’t HAVE to be asked. Now, are you going to let me be nice to you or not, asshole?”

Vegeta was still looking away, scowling. “Just… give me a minute.”

Bulma crossed her arms, not understanding. He was being so abstruse. “Why’s that?”

He gave her a pained, sidelong look, then glanced away again. He tried to twist further from her in his chair, adjusting his shirt still bunched in his lap. “I just need a goddamn minute, okay?”

Bulma glared at him, but something in his tone and defensive behavior struck a nerve. She looked again at his hand fisted protectively in his lap, and realization struck her like ice water to the face. She felt herself blush. Apparently, her massage had been good, a little _too_ good, and had created an unwanted side effect that Vegeta was trying his best to hide beneath the t-shirt in his lap. “Oh…”

For a moment they both remained in the kitchen in awkward silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, looking anywhere but at each other.

Bulma cleared her throat. “I uh… could get you more food?” she offered.

“Yes, do that,” Vegeta gratefully agreed.

Still blushing, Bulma busied herself in the kitchen, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the food to give Vegeta what little privacy she could. As she cooked over the stove, her back to him, Bulma couldn’t help a little smile grow on her lips. She’d actually had an effect on him, _finally_. She was so tired of being the only one to fall to pieces from just a touch or a look. It was a small victory, and compliment, but she was willing to take it. Maybe her chances with Vegeta weren’t so hopeless after all.

By the time she was done, Vegeta’s ‘issue’ had subsided, and he’d slipped his shirt back on, although his embarrassment was still written all over his face. Bulma served him then started to leave.

“Not hungry?” he asked as he started to eat.

Bulma flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Mm, no, I already ate with Chi-Chi at the mall.”

Vegeta grunted.

“Well, night then,” she bade him over her shoulder as she left. She hesitated at the doorway, a wicked idea coming to her. Did she dare? She glanced at Vegeta, the memory of what he’d done to her in the school hallway still burnt into her memory. Oh yes, she dared. “Oh, Vegeta?” He didn’t reply, but she knew she had his attention. “Now that you know how good I am with my hands, you know where to find me if you need anything else massaged.”

She ducked out of the kitchen with a wicked smirk, the sound of Vegeta choking on his dinner following her up the stairs as she stifled her own laughter. Payback was a bitch, and its name was Bulma.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_AN:_

_Phew, finally, I posted this! Boy was I super unhappy with the first draft of this chapter, and the next twenty drafts after >_< . I had to rework it -a lot-, on top of dealing with Independence Day weekend, so this was posted a day later than I wanted it to be, so sorry about that. I hope you guys enjoyed it though!_

_FYI, I normally try to put up a new chapter every 2-3 days, but I have A LOT coming up this week, so I’m not sure if I can keep to that schedule. We’ll see, but there’s a good chance you’ll have to wait until the end of the week or the weekend for chapter 13. Sorry in advanced if that turns out to be the case. :(_

_P.S. Don’t forget to look at_ **_GalacticShark17_ ** _on twitter for an amazing roughed up Vegeta drawing, not to mention other totally cool stylized DBZ and Vegebul related art, and perhaps if we’re super lucky, some more art for this story? *bats eyelashes coquettishly*_


	13. 13 - Jealous (w FANART)

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.13 - Jealous**

 

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Vegeta asked her in a condescending tone.

Bulma looked at her sketches. “What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s orange, brown, yellow _and_ blue _and_ ,” Vegeta leaned in closer to her drawings, squinting at them in disdain. “And _pink_?!”

Bulma thoughtfully tapped her lip with her pen. “Too much?” she asked, cocking her head as she contemplated her designs for their school project.

Vegeta scoffed. “It looks like a super hero character a three year old would concoct. Just make it simple. Like blue. Strong. Powerful.”

Bulma tapped the paper, frowning. “Just blue? No highlights at all?”

“No,” Vegeta told her firmly. She looked up at him, pouting, and he sighed. “If you _must_ accessorize, keep it streamlined. White.” He thought about it for a moment, then added. “Maybe gold.”

Bulma smirked. “How very militaristic of you, Vegeta.”

He frowned.

She smiled before looking back at her sketches. She shuffled them together and put them away. “Are you finished with your research?” She asked him, reaching her arms up above her head to stretch.

Vegeta nodded. “You?”

Bulma eased her arms down with a laugh. “Getting there.”

“Tch,” Vegeta grunted, displeased. “Need I remind you that the assignment is due _next week_. I thought you’d be more on top of your workload. I’d better not flunk this project because you can’t carry your weight.”

Bulma poked her tongue out at him. “Trust me, I’ll be pulling both our weight and _then_ some on this project. Just e-mail me what you have so far so I can compile all the data.”

Vegeta grunted, and she took that as his assent. 

Bulma’s cell phone rang. She hopped up, hurrying over to answer it. “Excuse me,” she pardon herself to Vegeta right before answering the phone. “Oh, Raditz! Hey, it’s been a while.” Bulma moved to a quiet corner of her room to carry out her conversation. After several minutes of catching up and laughing, she looked up only to see that Vegeta had let himself out of her room. She shrugged and went back to her call.

The next day, walking to school together, Vegeta initiated conversation with her. It was so unlike him to speak to her on their route that she almost tripped when he broke the silence. “Who were you talking to last night?” He asked her. “Radish or someone? I don’t remember that name among the herd of buffoons you usually hang out with.”

“Hmm? Oh, Raditz,” Bulma corrected. “Yeah, he doesn’t go to school with us. He’s older. He’s Goku’s cousin actually, and when he was in school he got expelled for getting involved in some gang.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Which gang?”

Bulma shrugged. “Like I’d know. He’s an idiot, but he means well enough.”

Vegeta frowned, looking forward. “…You two sounded pretty chummy.”

Bulma cocked her head. “I suppose. He was always pretty sweet on me. Where Goku is like my little brother, Raditz was something of a big brother to me. We don’t see each other as much as we used to, but when we do it’s like nothing’s changed.”

Vegeta’s mouth thinned, looking displeased by this news. “If he’s related to the clown, and dumb enough to get caught doing seedy activities, then he doesn’t sound like much good to me.”

Bulma smirked and nudged Vegeta’s side. “Jealous?”

“Tch. Of what?” he snapped back.

She smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “That I have so many strong, handsome young men around me?”

Vegeta threw her a hard look. “So this Raditz is ‘strong and handsome’ is he?”

Bulma laughed, feeling a thrill of pleasure. “Oh my gosh, you _are_ jealous!” she teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vegeta flared. “It’s just in poor taste to gloat about how desirable you are.”

“Oh really?” Bulma asked, smirking. “I seem to remember a time you saying you were the first smart choice I had made.”

“That’s not gloating, that’s just a fact,” Vegeta replied back simply. Bulma snorted, but her smile faltered when she saw him smirk at her. It was never good news when he looked at her that way. “But if you want to play that game, go ahead and ask me how much tail I’ve had to turn down since coming here.”

That stopped Bulma in her tracks. She stared up at him, feeling cold fingers of jealousy grip her. “Wait, you… _What_?”

Vegeta stopped a few steps ahead of her, half turned towards her, still smirking. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to know?”

She didn’t, Bulma realized. The thought of Vegeta with other girls made her feel suddenly ill. To hide her panic she put on a brave face, feigning indifference. “I don’t believe you. You’ve been a surly, shabby lone-wolf since you arrived. I haven’t seen anyone but myself give you the time of day.”

Vegeta’s mouth twitched, his eyes narrowing subtly, but he shrugged, looking away nonchalantly. “If that’s what you choose to see.” Feeling her heart quicken with fear, Bulma found her feet and stomped past him, continuing onwards. “We’ll be late for school,” she grumbled, not feeling like conversing on the topic any further. 

The rest of the day at school, Bulma watched Vegeta like a hawk, making sure he wasn’t garnering any unwanted female attention. No one paid him any attention in class, and for the classes they didn’t share, Bulma would hurry out as soon as the bell range to catch Vegeta in the hallways, but as per usual, everyone gave him a wide birth. If he was entertaining any girls, he was stealthy about it. By the end of the day, Bulma was starting to think that Vegeta had just been messing with her. 

When the final bell rang, Bulma headed towards the school exit. She came around the final corner and saw Vegeta waiting for her. He was leaning against the a door frame, but she almost didn’t recognize him. He looked dramatically different - his attire changed. Gone were his dark baggy jacket and top, replaced by a fitted white tee - probably an undershirt he’d been wearing. The top clung to his torso like a second skin, showing off his broad chest and back, his muscular arms, and lean cut abdomen. His hair was freshly slicked back, and most remarkable were a pair of rose-colored shades that highlighted rather than hid his eyes. Even his cast didn’t detract from his look, adding a roguish element to his otherwise new clean-cut style. Vegeta looked sharp. Fuck, Bulma thought, he looked _good_. And for once, he looked approachable.

Which is where the problem lay, for Vegeta wasn’t waiting by the door alone. A couple girls were standing before him, chatting to him in a very flirty manner while Vegeta stood there, tolerating them. One of the girls even had her manicured claws on his cast, stroking the BADMAN Bulma had designed for him. Bulma could feel a sour look contorting her expression, something dark and ugly twisting in her stomach at the sight of girls fawning over Vegeta. It made her feel… something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was painful and shattering.

Vegeta looked up and saw her, his gaze locking with hers. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against and without so much as a pardon, pushed the girls aside and made his way over to her. Seeing him make a B line for her, leaving the other girls in his wake, Bulma felt the hot, ugly feeling inside her subside, replaced with something warmer, and far more dangerous for how heady it was.

Vegeta approached her, eyes only on her. “Your bag,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers, piercing her even through the rose-tinted shades.

Bulma was having trouble processing his words, still drinking in the picture he painted. “Huh?” she replied.

“Give me your bag,” Vegeta repeated slowly, his eyes burning into hers, demanding every ounce of attention she possessed.

Bulma nodded obediently, feeling her heart-rate flutter uncontrollably. She handed him her bag which he deftly swung over his shoulder. Then he grabbed her wrist and walked her out of the school, past the two girls who had been crowding him earlier. He didn’t even give them a second glance as they walked past. Bulma turned to watch them, seeing their sullen, pouty expressions as they watched Vegeta leave with her. Bulma couldn’t help the smug, victorious smile that turned up the corners of her mouth.

“You’re egging them on,” Vegeta said, using the same words she had berated him with about Yamcha. Bulma whipped her head around to look at him, and saw he was glancing at her from the corner of his shades, watching her expressions.

Bulma scowled huffily to hide her embarrassment. “I am not. Besides, what’s all this about then?” she asked, waving a hand at Vegeta’s outfit.

“Proving a point,” he said, letting go of her wrist as they left the school grounds. She tried not to look disappointed, the ghosts of his fingers lingering on her wrist.

“Trying to make me jealous by showing me how much ‘tail’ you can get?” Bulma asked, her tone bitchy even to her own ears.

Vegeta hooked the middle of his shades and brought them down his nose so that he could look at her directly. “No. I’m showing you that I usually dress ‘shabby’ for a _reason_. I don’t need _that_ attention, day in day out. And I especially don’t need friends. But you’re the only idiot who didn’t seem to pick up on that cue.”

Bulma stared back at him, baffled. Vegeta had dressed this way because he’d taken offense to her quip about his shabby fashion? This was about vanity, not jealousy? She could hardly believe it. “I don’t get you,” she said with a sigh, dumbfounded.

Vegeta pushed his shades back up, looking away with a wry expression. “Likewise.”

They walked together in silence, Bulma feeling a growing unease. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, and she had a pretty good idea why. Her reaction to seeing the other girls swarming Vegeta had been too strong for her own liking. She and Vegeta weren’t even dating, and yet she’d felt possessive of him, as though Vegeta was hers… only, he wasn’t.

She needed to get a grip. She knew she had no right to be jealous, Vegeta had clearly told her that he wasn’t going to get into a relationship with her, and she had come to accept that, in a way, but the idea that he might have been seeking female companionship elsewhere… Bulma shook her head, trying to rid herself of the idea, and of the jealousy she felt. It just wasn’t fair, she could never figure out where she stood with Vegeta - annoyance, friend, love interest? The mixed signals he sent her weren’t doing her any favors. One minute he said that nothing could happen between them, then the next he was carrying her bag, brushing off some of the prettiest girls in the school just to walk her home, all the while looking like he’d stepped out of a Bad Boys Monthly magazine, just to prove a point to her. It was doing her head in something fierce, and she was starting to question her sanity and her decision to wait for Vegeta to come around; it was causing her too much heartache.

“Here,” Vegeta said, jolting her out of her contemplation, and suddenly she was smacked in the middle with her own bag.

“Oof!” Bulma cried out, grabbing her bag reflexively. “What the hell?”

“It’s heavy,” Vegeta said indifferently, and continued walking, leaving her to hold her own bag.

Bulma glared at him in irritation. She swung the bag over her shoulder and hurried to catch up. “Then why did you make a big deal about taking my bag in the first place?” she grouched at him as she caught up.

“To get that look off your face,” he replied.

Bulma gripped her shoulder strap, glaring at Vegeta in annoyance. “What look?”

He glanced at her perceptively. “The same look you had when I first ran into you, coming out of the men’s toilets.”

Bulma felt the color drain from her face. He was talking about when she’d found Yamcha cheating on her. _Betrayal_. Vegeta was talking about betrayal. The word flashed in her mind, filling her body with a sick, heavy weight, and everything clicked together. _That_ was the elusive feeling she had experienced when she’d spotted Vegeta with the other girls, she had felt _betrayed_. Her feelings for Vegeta were worse than she’d thought. On top of which, he’d seen it on her face.

Bulma looked at Vegeta, reeling from her revelation and dumbfounded that he would even pay her expressions that much consideration. “Since when do you care what anyone else is feeling?” she asked, shaken.

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t. Unless it’s you.” Bulma thought the ground was going to drop away from beneath her. “Aside from myself and my father, you’re the only one I give a damn about.” 

Bulma slowed to a stop, unable to walk and process the weight of Vegeta’s confession.

He glanced back at her, frowning. “Stop dragging your feet,” he said gruffly. 

Bulma nodded dumbly, picking up her feet, following beside him in silence. She kept her eyes on the ground, unable to look him in the eye. Her world was crashing around her with revelation. She was totally doomed. There was no going back. It was no good worrying about Vegeta anymore, about being patient, or thinking of giving up on him. What good would it do, since it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d already completely and utterly fallen for him?

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

“You look awful,” Vegeta greeted her bluntly.

Bulma felt awful. She had pulled a couple all nighters trying to finish their project on time. She huffed at Vegeta, not in the mood for his brutal honesty when she was so sleep deprived. “That’s so rude,” she snapped back. 

“Is it done?” he asked her, indifferent to her crankiness. 

Bulma nodded, digging about in her bag and pulling out a laminated folder. She handed it to Vegeta for his perusal. He flipped through it, looking at their research notes, charts and designs. The frown on his face eased. “Hmm, seems passable,” he said.

“You asshole. It’s _brilliant_ ,” Bulma corrected him, rubbing her tired eyes. “Mostly because of me, but also in part to your efforts. I concede you did some really solid research.”

Vegeta gave her an odd look.

“What?” she asked, a little too sharply, cranky from lack of sleep.

Vegeta looked away from her. “Nothing… it’s just odd to be praised for school work.”

“You mean, in a group project?” Bulma asked, not surprised seeing as Vegeta didn’t collaborate well with others.

Vegeta frowned, not answering her. That’s when Bulma understood that he’d meant _ever_. Had no one ever bothered to compliment him before? Jesus, just how much abuse had this boy been brought up with? Perhaps it was from lack of sleep, but on a whim, Bulma stepped in and hugged him.

Vegeta instantly stiffened. “What are you doing?!” he snapped at her, alarmed.

“Thanking you for your help,” she said stubbornly. She gave him a final squeeze, then stepped back before he he could shove her away, and before she found it too hard to let him go. She distracted herself by pulling out a package from her bag, handing it to Vegeta.

“What’s this?” he asked, suspicious now from her assault, taking the package uncertainly as if it might try to bite him.

“Our invention.”

Vegeta looking up at her, incredulous. “… _More_ research?”

“No, it’s our _invention_ ,” Bulma repeated impatiently. “Open it up, dum-dum.”

Vegeta scowled. He put the folder aside so that he could open the package. He pulled out a long, sporty blue unitard made of a stretchy yet resilient fabric, similar to spandex. 

Bulma smiled at the stunned look on Vegeta’s face, feeling pride at her creation. “What do you think? Go on, try it, try to damage it.”

Vegeta gave her a surprised look, then returned his focus to the garment. He stepped on one end and grabbed the cloth with his good hand and tried to wrench it apart, but the material simply stretched, taking the abuse before snapping back into place. Bulma grinned. “Neat, huh? But that’s not even the best part,” she said, and she pulled out a box cutter. She popped the blade and handed the handle to Vegeta. He took it uncertainly, then tried to stab through the fabric, but the unitard resisted the impact. Vegeta stared at the fabric, utterly dumbfounded. “You… created this?”

Bulma pushed her hair back. “Of course. It’s based on our research. A fusion between rugby uniforms and bullet proof armor, flexible, strong, able to resist extreme impacts. The perfect MMA training outfit.”

Vegeta didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. “…It was only supposed to be a _theoretical_ exercise,” he said, looking up at her, at a loss.

Bulma took the material back from him with a smug look. “I know, but I’m Bulma Briefs, I make the theoretical possible. I told you, I’m a genius, and an inventor. Do you think I’ve been working my ass off just over a bunch of stupid pie charts? _Please_. We’re going to blow this presentation out of the water! That A+ distinction is mine, er, ours!”

Vegeta looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to do in the wake of her sheer genius. “We should get going,” he finally said, and left without another look at her.

Bulma scowled after him, disappointed that he hadn’t been more impressed and glowing with praise for her genius. Not that she expected much from Vegeta, but she had hoped for something at least. They walked to school in silence, Vegeta avoiding her gaze, Bulma miffed.

In class, their presentation clearly outshone everyone else’s. Mr Popo was very impressed and asked to speak to Bulma and Vegeta after class about their work. While she was giving the teacher a run down of the patent process she’d gone through with her invention, Vegeta slipped out without her knowing. She looked for him at lunch, but he wasn’t in the cafeteria. There was only one other place she knew that Vegeta liked to go to during lunch periods, and she decided to check out his old haunt.

She found him on the roof, staring moodily up at the sky. She took a seat beside him. “Hey, what’s up? You’re being more aloof than usual.”

“Nothing. Just evaluating the shit show that is my life,” he replied drolly. 

Bulma snorted. “Sounds intense. Care to talk it out?” she nudged his side in a friendly, prodding manner.

He glanced at her, then away. He sighed. “You _created_ something that didn’t exist before. One day it didn’t exist, then it did, because of _you_.”

“Yep,” she replied simply.

Vegeta gave her an incredulous look. “‘Yep’? ‘ _Yep’_? That’s what you have to say for yourself? Damnit, Bulma, that’s ridiculous. What the fuck are you even doing in a place like this? You should be in some goddamn government lab creating automated space pods or something equally genius.”

Bulma smiled and shrugged, hugging her knees to her chest. “There’s too many restrictions working for the government,” she said mildly, only half in tongue-in-cheek. If not for her father’s company, a top-secret government lab would have been a worthwhile consideration.

Her answer only seemed to make Vegeta angrier. “This place is holding you back,” he snapped at her. “These people aren’t doing you any favors.”

“These people?” She asked, her brow rising.

“Yes,” he said hotly. “You deserve more than some third rate public school education, and Christ, your family can afford to give it to you. So why the fuck are you even here?” He looked at her, his eyes furious. “Why are you even _here_?”

Bulma was struck with clarity. “You mean, with you?” she asked, giving Vegeta an understanding look. He clenched his fist and looked away from her, and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head. She leaned in, not letting him shut her out. “Is that what this is really about? You think you’re not good enough for me?”

Vegeta clenched his jaw, giving her a sidelong look. “So what if it fucking is? All I’m good at is destroying things and taking a beating. Why are you wasting your goddamn time with me?” His eyes were fierce, imploring. She could see the unasked questions, the built up frustration and doubt that gnawed away at him. It made her heart ache.

Bulma put her hand on his forearm, and leaned in. She kissed his cheek softly, squeezing his arm. “I’m the genius here, so why don’t you let me worry about that? Besides, it’s good ying and yang isn’t it? You destroy, I create?” she gave him a half smile.

Vegeta took her kiss with a scowl, but didn’t look appeased, her answer unsatisfactory. “You could do so much better, Bulma,” he said softly, and she didn’t know if he meant with himself, or in life in general. “You’ve so many options, it’s not fair you limit yourself to this plebeian life.”

“Hey, I choose to be here, I like this life,” Bulma interjected. “I have my whole future to be a genius scientist, but only this time now to be a student with my friends in high school. And I’m glad, because otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you,” she smiled at him.

“Tch. Fat load of good that did you.”

Bulma frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the Vegeta I know,” she chastised gently. “The Vegeta I know is proud, because he has a lot to be proud of. He’s strong, smart, goal-orientated, persistent, honorable, reliable, kind-”

“Are we talking about the same Vegeta?”

“-In a weird, grumpy way,” Bulma amended, smirking. Vegeta rolled his eyes and looked away to stare out at the sky, sulking. “You make no fucking sense,” he grumbled.

Bulma squeezed his arm again, then rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re not the first to say so.” She fell silent, thinking, a nagging worry growing in her heart. “… You’re not going to start treating me differently now, are you?”

Vegeta huffed. “What the fuck for?”

Bulma shrugged. “Most people do. They just see me as the ‘smart, scientist girl’ or the ‘rich girl’ or the ‘fight club groupie girl’. They put me on a weird pedestal, and start attaching their expectations to it, expectations I never wanted to have. No one sees me for just me, you know? Not until…” she trailed off, needing to find her courage, then pushed on. “No until I met you.”

Vegeta didn’t reply right away, mulling over her confession. “You’re mostly the ‘pain in the ass girl’ to me,” he finally said. Bulma elbowed his side. Vegeta took it without complaint. “What about those fools you call friends?” he asked. “They don’t see you?”

Bulma hummed contemplatively. “Yeah, well, they are pretty awesome. But they have their own lives to think about. I’ve seen Chi-Chi looking at wedding magazines already - and the guys, well, I’m lucky if I’m an after thought to them most of the time.” Bulma smiled at Vegeta. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re all dear to me, but…” she trailed off, not sure how to express what she felt.

“You’re an outsider amongst your peers?” Vegeta hazarded.

Bulma looked at him with surprise. She nodded. “Yeah, something like that. You know the feeling?”

Vegeta grimaced. “On occasion,” he said, and by his tone she guessed it was something he felt quite frequently.

Bulma gave him a sympathetic smile. “But _you’ve_ never had expectations of me, you’ve never taken it easy on me, or treated me differently because I’m smart or rich or beautiful.”

“Tch,” Vegeta interjected. “You’re giving me too much credit. It’s _because_ of those things that I pay you any attention at all, you moron.”

Bulma laughed. “See? And you don’t pull any punches.”

“I’m not joking.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Please. Those were just circumstances that got us to meet. Are you honestly saying you still put up with me because I get good marks or have a wealthy family?”

Vegeta looked up at the clouds. “Well, the money part helps now that I’m living with you.”

Bulma thinned her lips, but she knew Vegeta wasn’t going to give her a candid answer; expressing real emotions wasn’t something that came easily to him, and he’d already been more personal with her this conversation than he was probably comfortable with. “Well, whatever the case,” she pressed on. “I don’t want you treating me differently because I’m a little above the bell curve when it comes to genius. I like it when you treat me for just being me. Do you know what that’s like, to have someone treat you for just being you?”

Vegeta looked at her from the corner of his eye for a long while. His mouth finally turned up wryly, and he leaned into her. “Mm… I think I’m beginning to.”

Bulma smiled, and looked away before he could see the helpless adoration in her eyes.  

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

It wasn’t long before Vegeta was able to get his cast removed, earlier than the doctor had initially thought. His ribs were also given a clean bill of health. Vegeta was awfully smug about the whole process, claiming he’d always healed fast. He was clearly excited to have the cast removed, flexing his freed hand, his eyes glinting with the taste of freedom, elated to be fully mobile once more.

“You’ll be able to participate fully in the MMA club now,” Bulma said as Vegeta flexed his arm, twisting it experimentally. 

He smirked at her in a cocksure way. “Finally someone there will know what they’re doing,” he boasted.

Bulma snorted. “You’re in for a surprise. Goku’s better than you think. The others too.”

“ _Please_. I’ve been watching them train. I could have taken them all on, even with my cast,” Vegeta scoffed.

Bulma rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “We’ll see. Goku is a whole different beast when he fights for real. You shouldn’t underestimate him. He came first in state last year.”

“Good for him,” Vegeta said snidely. 

Now that their project was finished with, and Vegeta was at full health, he spent a lot more time in the home gym when he wasn’t training at school. It meant he and Bulma spent less time together one on one, but Bulma found it to be a fair trade as she could enjoy the MMA club sessions a whole lot more. No longer stuck on the bench or performing simple katas, Vegeta was forced to interact with the other guys on the team, something Bulma found insatiably amusing. Vegeta intimidated the smaller guys, and pissed off almost all of them, but only Goku seemed amused by his aggressive behavior, and that in turn pissed off Vegeta. But the best part of all was watching Vegeta go through routines and exercises. With him fully healed, it was a treat for Bulma’s eyes. She often found herself chewing on the end of a pencil, watching Vegeta perform an endless array of push-ups, her eyes studying the way his biceps bulged and his neck corded while she pretended to study her notes. She went through an awful lot of pencils.

To everyone’s irritation, and to Vegeta’s great satisfaction, Vegeta proved far stronger and more adept at fighting than the rest of the MAA boys. Only Goku came close to beating him, and that was after Vegeta had exhausted himself in matches against the other boys. Coach Piccolo had to call an end to their fight before anyone got seriously hurt. Despite his victory, Vegeta didn’t seem too happy. He started watching Goku with a narrowed gaze and took training far more seriously after that. Bulma suspected Vegeta’s victory had been narrower than his ego felt comfortable with. 

As days turned into weeks, she noticed Vegeta getting bigger. The healthy diet he was getting at the Breif’s house, along with the regular exercise in their gym was helping him put on a lot more muscle. He’d also grown an inch, something Bulma discovered when they were arguing one day and she found, to her great chagrin, that she had to look up to glare into his eyes. 

As the weather grew warmer, Bulma’s parents decided it was time to take a vacation. 

“Where are we going?” Bulma asked as they discussed their plans over breakfast.

“ _You’re_ not going anywhere, dear,” Dr. Briefs said over his newspaper. “Your mother and I are traveling alone. You and Vegeta need to stay and attend school. You also need to look at applying for college credit courses.”

“You’re leaving us _behind_?” Bulma cried, aghast.

“Yes dear, but you’ll have the whole place to yourself, won’t that be nice?” Mrs. Briefs twittered.

Bulma sulked into her plate. “Living in this place without parental supervision? Nothing new then,” she grouched under her breath, salty. Her parents didn’t hear, but she suspected Vegeta did when he glanced her way.

“You can invite your friends over and have a little party,” Mrs. Briefs suggested.

“Mom!” Bulma protested, slapping her hands down on the table. “It’s no fun if you _allow_ it! You’re supposed to forbid such things, so it’s more exciting.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Briefs put a worried hand to her cheek. “Well in that case, no parties then. And absolutely don’t help yourself to the pantry or let your friends stay in the guest rooms if need be.”

“Ugh!” Bulma groaned, and dropped her head to the table in dramatic frustration. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me behind. You know how much I like to travel and go on adventures. You never left Tights behind, this is so unfair.”

“School is getting to be too important to skip,” Dr. Briefs said matter-of-factly. “Besides, Vegeta’s here now. He’ll be man of the house while we’re gone. You’ll take care of my daughter while we’re out, won’t you, son?” Dr. Briefs asked Vegeta.

Vegeta paused, surprised to be addressed and asked such a task. He glanced at Dr. Briefs, then at Bulma who scowled at him, then back to the Doctor. “Uh, yes, sir.”

“Dad! I don’t need a babysitter!” Bulma hissed, humiliated. 

“Well perhaps if you weren’t acting like a baby,” Vegeta mumbled at her. 

Bulma glowered at him, fuming. “Shut it, alien head!”

“Now, now, there will be plenty of time for you two to fight when we’re gone,” Dr. Briefs interrupted them before they could get into it. “You take care of each other and the house. We’ll leave our contact information just in case. It’s all been decided already so there’s no point arguing.” Dr. Briefs stood up, and put a hand on Vegeta’s shoulder. “She’s your responsibility. I trust you to keep her safe.”

Vegeta froze under the gesture and words. A mix of emotions warred on his face until he managed a stiff nod.

“Good boy!” Dr. Briefs complimented, then he grabbed his coffee and left. Mrs. Briefs busied herself cleaning up.

“Worst. Parents. Ever,” Bulma sulked into the table.

“Tch,” Vegeta grumbled, but Bulma noticed he didn’t disagree with her, looking vexed and maybe a little daunted at the responsibility placed on his shoulders.

Bulma looked at him, sighing. “Don’t think you can boss me around when my parents are gone.”

Vegeta flashed her an irritated look. “Stay out of my way and I won’t have to.”

“Fine, I will,” she replied back hotly. “And I’m going to have a party, so don’t bring your surly attitude and ruin it for me, okay?”

“Like hell you will,” Vegeta growled. “I won’t have a bunch of strangers in my house.”

“ _Your_ house?” Bulma asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” he replied back, narrowing his eyes at her. They stared off at each other, glaring.

Bulma mulled over her options. She pursed her lips, thinking. “…I’ll fix the rowing machine in the gym,” she finally offered, recalling Vegeta complaining about the broken equipment a few days ago.

Vegeta’s eyes flicked with interest, his brows coming together. His finger tapped his thigh as he considered her words. “Fine,” he finally relented. 

“Fine,” she replied, holding out her hand. He eyed it cautiously before meeting it with his own. They shook hands on their deal. Bulma smiled smugly to herself; with her parents gone, throwing a party was just the opportunity she needed to get Vegeta all to herself.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

.... Art by [AlienaChan](https://twitter.com/Aliena_Chan)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/AlienaChan_FriendsAUBadman_zpskaam6gjx.jpg.html)

_**AN:** In case you couldn’t tell, I love putting in little DBZ references throughout this fic, our little in-jokes ;)  This one had a lot. Not sure if it was obvious, but the sketches were a throw-back to Vegeta’s Planet Arlia colors, and the rose-colored sunglasses are supposed to be a tip-of-the-hat to the scouter. Not to mention insults like ‘alien head’ and the fact that Vegeta is getting more buff, like he did with his transition throughout the various DBZ sagas._

_Sorry if the quality wasn’t up to par this time around, I had a very minor medical procedure the other day and it’s left me in some discomfort, so I didn’t quite have the energy to be too pedantic with editing this chapter. Everything is fine though, or should be, so no need to worry ;)_

_Speaking of chapters, OH MY GOSH GUYS, I’m dying to show you chapter 14. Actually, the next few chapters are quite exciting, IMO. Can’t wait to see what you all think. muwhahaha. >:)_


	14. 14 - the Party

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.14 - the Party**

 

Bulma carefully applied her lipstick, ignoring the weight of the dark gaze being shot her way from the doorway.

“What’s with all this?” Vegeta demanded, arms folded in front of his chest, his eyes looking her up and down with a disapproving scowl on his face. He was wearing a thin tee and sweats, work out clothes, the t-shirt showing off the fruits of his labor. He was looking ripped, but Bulma couldn’t stare or she’d mess up her make up.

“The party is today, remember?” Bulma reminded him, pressing her lips together and examining her handiwork in the full length mirror.

“How could I forget? It’s all you’ve been talking about all damn week,” Vegeta grouched. “And I’ve only received 84 messages from your stupid little group chat about it.”

Bulma hid a smirk, trying not to imagine Vegeta’s growing annoyance at receiving so many messages. She smiled at her reflection in satisfaction, happy with her appearance, smoothing down the bright red dress she wore that hugged her every curve. She’d done her best the last few weeks to dress modestly for Vegeta (or at least modest by her standards), but her parents were gone now, and she was throwing a party. Bulma wanted to dress up and go wild, and so she’d selected one of the prettiest and sexiest dresses she owned. “How do I look?” she asked, turning to Vegeta with a brilliant smile, holding her breath for his response.

He scowled at her. “I thought it was just your friends coming over.”

Bulma nodded. “It is. And they’re _your_ friends too, you know.”

“Hardly,” Vegeta sneered. “So why are you making such an effort for those guys?”

Bulma put a hand on her hip, growing annoyed with Vegeta’s attitude. Had she really expected him to compliment her? “Because I want to. Girls like to be pretty sometimes, Vegeta,” she said, her tone a little scathing. She turned away from him in frustration, re-examine herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair. “And Yamcha’s going to be here,” she added as an afterthought. “I want him to be a little bit sorry about what he’s lost.”

Vegeta’s lip curled up into a sneer as it usually did with the mention of Yamcha. “You invited that loser?”

“I invited the group,” Bulma corrected him. “He’s part of the group. I’m not going to make our friends choose sides because Yamcha fucked things up.”

“Tch,” Vegeta spat, not looking pleased, but he chose not to argue the point any further. 

Bulma watched him in the mirror. Vegeta’s body was tense, his face drawn in its usual scowl. She wondered what was going on in that head of his. Was he jealous, even just a little? Bulma pretended to fuss with her hair. “You’ll be attending the party, won’t you?” she asked innocently.

“Like hell.”

Bulma felt her stomach plummet, and she turned around. “What? Why not? I’ve made lots of food, and there’ll be drinks too.”

“I don’t drink,” he replied caustically. “I try to avoid things that inhibit my reflexes and awareness. Besides, since when do you drink?”  

Bulma shrugged. “It’s a party, we need to break some rules. Anyway, it’ll be fun. We can hang out, eat, maybe play some games and sing or dance.”

“You’re joking,” Vegeta gritted out. “Do I look like the kind of person who’d enjoy any of that? What could possibly be in it for me?”

Bulma pouted, feeling her heart sink. “ _I’ll_ be there.”

Vegeta opened his mouth, then shut it, his lip curling with annoyance, but he said nothing. Bulma sensed his hesitation. She approached him, hoping he found her as alluring in her dress as she imagined. She reached out and took his hand in hers, running her fingers against his rough palm. “Please? I want you to be there.”

Vegeta frowned, reluctant to be swayed, thinning his lips. “I have to train.”

“All night?” Bulma pressed demurely.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, his expression weakening. “…Perhaps I can take a break and join you later,” he finally relented.

Bulma felt an elated smile spread on her face. “Yes, you should!”

“I’m not making any promises,” Vegeta grumbled, looking displeased with himself.

Bulma nodded, smiling brightly, knowing it was as good an answer as she was going to get. She gave Vegeta’s hand an encouraging squeeze, then let it go. “Alright, you should train. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be finished, right? And I have to finish getting the house ready,” she said, her mind already turning back to playing hostess. “We’re going to be hanging out in the lounge room next the kitchen. Join us when you’re able.”

“Hmf,” Vegeta grumbled and turned on his heels, heading off to his workout.

Bulma also moved, needing to put in place the finishing touches for the party. Her parents had left earlier in the week, so true to her word, Bulma had fixed the gym equipment for Vegeta and invited the gang over to have a party that Saturday. She’d spent all day cooking, cleaning and organizing the large living space with a tv, and a music, karaoke and game system. She made sure there was enough ice and drinks in the refrigerator, and she brought out some alcohol from her parents’ stash. Vegeta had been right, she didn’t usually participate in underaged drinking, but she was feeling rebellious and if her mother was going to okay the party, then Bulma had to find some other way to break some rules. Plus, it might provide her with just the courage she needed to test her relationship with Vegeta.

As evening fell, her friends started to arrive.

“Hey Bulma! Raditz is visiting, is it okay if he joins?” Goku asked. Bulma agreed, which was lucky since Raditz already with him.

“Bulma!” the tall, wild looking young man declared, beaming at her handsomely. Raditz was big, powerfully built and dressed in jeans and a varsity jacket, with a long, shaggy mane of hair. “You look all grown up!” he exclaimed, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” she blushed at his fussing. “Raditz, my gosh, your hair is out of control.” 

Raditz laughed, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, yeah, everyone says I should get it cut, but I kind of like it. Enough about me though, look at you! Damn, girl, Yamcha’s a lucky man.”

Goku laughed awkwardly. Bulma made a face. “Not anymore. We broke up.”

“Really? Well, too bad for him then, eh?” Raditz replied, not sounding the least broken up by the news as they headed inside. “So, tell me everything that’s been going on. How many PHDs do you have now?”

They laughed and talked, nibbling on snacks as everyone else turned up. Soon there was music playing and drinks were being passed around, both soft and hard. Yamcha arrived. He awkwardly complimented her attire, then quickly excused himself to a corner of the room to hang out with the guys. 

After a couple hours had gone by, Vegeta walked passed the living space in his gym clothes, sweaty from working out. He didn’t even glance in, continuing on his way. Bulma jumped to her feet and ran after him.

“Vegeta! Are you joining us?” she asked excitedly, holding a cocktail in her hand, her face flushed from laughter and her drink.

Vegeta barely glanced at her as he kept walking. “Just getting a drink,” he said flatly.

“But there’re free drinks in the gym,” she said, baffled that he’d come all this way for refreshments.

“Those aren’t cold.”

Bulma said nothing else, suspecting it was an excuse for him to check up on the party. When they reached the kitchen, Bulma leaned against the counter, watching as Vegeta dug around in the fridge for a cold bottle of water. He found one and opened the cap, swallowing down half the bottle in one go. Bulma watching him as he tilted his head back, his throat bobbing greedily with each gulp. He then dumped the rest of the water on his head to cool off.

“Hey! Not in the kitchen!” Bulma protested. Vegeta ignored her. He threw the empty bottle aside and walked off. Bulma hurried after him. “Hey! Where are you going?” she protested. He hadn’t even looked at her.

“Back to the gym.”

“But… what about the party?” she whined. Was he really not going to join?

“Tch, you seem to be having enough fun without me there.”

“Vegeta!” Bulma complained. He didn’t listen to her, heading down the hall towards the gym. Bulma came to a stop, watching him leave. She didn’t know if she felt more hurt and annoyed. This wasn’t going at all to her plans. Settling on annoyed, Bulma finally turned on her heel and headed back to the party.

“Top up?” Raditz asked her as she returned, waggling a bottle of alcohol at her enticingly.

“Please,” Bulma agreed, and handed him her cup to refill.

“Who was that?” he asked, nodding towards the doorway where Vegeta had stomped passed.

“That’s Vegeta, who I told you about,” Goku piped in. 

“The new MMA fighter who beat you? _That_ little guy beat _you_?” Radtiz asked incredulous.

Goku nodded, smiling. “Yep, that’s the one.”

“He’s a tool,” Yamcha added from the corner of the room.

Bulma glared at him. “He is _not_. He’s just not… very sociable,” she explained awkwardly to Raditz.

“He came to your party just to use your gym?”

Bulma blushed. “Uh, no. He lives here now.”

Raditz raised a brow, surprised by the news, but he played it cool. “Huh.” He handed her back her drink, filled to the brim with liquor and juice. “Well, enough about that. Bulma, have I told you about the time I single-handedly snuck into the principal’s office and changed all his photos to pictures of students mooning him?”

“What? No!” Bulma laughed, sipping her drink and listening raptly as Raditz entertained her with his wild antics. She soon forgot all about Vegeta’s unsociableness as the night progressed. Even Yamcha’s presence didn’t diminish her fun, and he soon had to leave, having a part time job he had to get up early for the next day. Bulma relaxed as the good food, company, karaoke, and drinks quickly put her in bettr spirits. She sang her heart out, talked and listened to her friends, and all the while Raditz ensured her drink didn’t go empty for long.

A couple more hours later she was sitting in Raditz’s lap, feeling happily buzzed and giggling merrily as Raditz and Krillin poorly sang a duet together, Raditz putting on a falsetto to sing the female lines. Raditz had a hand casually looped around her waist, his fingers lazily stroking her side, and Bulma felt wonderfully buzzed. She thought nothing of Raditz’s familiarity until she looked up from the rim of her cocktail and saw Vegeta standing in the doorway, giving Raditz a look that could have stripped the flesh off a rhino. 

“Vegeta!” she cried out, perhaps a little too loudly, overjoyed to see him. Vegeta didn’t flinch as she pushed off Raditz, nearly spilling her drink as she clumsily made her way towards him. Vegeta was standing there freshly showered, wearing fitted black jeans and a midnight blue shirt that was stretched appealing over his muscled torso. He looked like a wet dream brought to life. Bulma nearly fell into him when she reached the door, unsteady on her heels. “Did you finish with the gym?” she asked hopefully.

Vegeta’s narrowed gaze lingered heavily on Raditz, before sliding over to make eye contact with her. His gaze took in her too bright eyes, her rosy cheeks and her easy smile. He saw the glass in her hand and frowned. “How many of those have you had?” he asked disapprovingly.

Bulma looked at her drink and tried to recall. “Oh, um, just a few,” she replied uncertainly. She hadn’t really been keeping track, her cup having been topped up on several occasions so it was difficult to say. “Come, sit down,” she eagerly offered, not wanting him to leave again. She put her hand on his forearm, more for balance than anything else.

Vegeta reluctantly unfolded his arms and followed her over to the sofa, back towards Raditz who was watching them curiously. Vegeta helped her keep her balance, but at the last minute when she was about to sit next to Raditz, Vegeta shoved her to the side, pushing her down to sit at the end of the couch, placing himself in the middle. She sat heavily, but didn’t complain when she found that being nestled between Vegeta and the armrest was pretty comfy.

Raditz gave Vegeta an uncertain look. “You want a drink, man?” he offered, his voice hesitant, trying to sound friendly.

Vegeta just glared at him, eyes narrowed. Raditz looked around for help. Nearby, Goku gave his usual awkward, high-pitched laugh. “Uh, Raditz, Vegeta,” he introduced. “Vegeta doesn’t say a lot, so uh, don’t take it personally.”

Vegeta flashed Goku a hateful look, then turned his back on them both, looking instead at Bulma. “Where’s the food?” he demanded. “You said there would be food.”

Bulma looked around but all she saw were empty plates, only a few bowls of chips remaining. “Oh, I guess it all got eaten already. I can get you some more,” she offered. She tried standing up, but found her legs suddenly wobbly, and the room started spinning. She stumbled, spilling her drink as she reached out to gain her balance. She started falling, but something stopped her, and she looked down to find Vegeta’s hands on her waist. She smiled at him gratefully. He glared back at her, his expression annoyed.

“You’re drunk,” he said, the words distasteful to him.

Bulma blushed and collapsed in Vegeta’s lap, finding that standing wasn’t the best option for her at the moment. “A little,” she confessed sheepishly.

Vegeta scowled at her. “Must you?” he asked, indicating his lap. “There’s a perfectly good couch to sit on.”

Bulma stuck out her bottom lip, looking up at him from under her long lashes. “But this is more comfy,” she pleaded.

“Says you.” 

“Exactly,” Bulma smirked. Feeling bold, and before he could argue with her further, Bulma tucked her head under Vegeta’s chin, curling up against him. He felt incredibly warm even through his shirt, and Bulma hummed in pleasure, curling against him like a cat soaking in a hot spot in the sun.

“Tch.” He relented, and took her glass from her hands, putting it safely out of her reach.

“Er, if you’re not comfortable, there’s room over here,” Raditz suggested, indicating the vacant spot next to him on the couch.

Before Bulma could reply she felt Vegeta’s hand wrap around her, resting on her knees to pull her body tighter in against him. “She’s comfortable where she is,” he growled back, his tone icy.

Raditz held up his hands in placation, and sensing he wasn’t welcome, turned around to engage someone else in conversation, leaving Vegeta and Bulma to themselves. Bulma could feel Vegeta relax beneath her, and she tried to hold back a smile. Although she felt bad for Raditz, it was nice to have Vegeta finally show some kind of possessiveness over her. Perhaps all wasn’t so hopeless between them after all.

“Sorry about the food,” she said softly, wriggling in closer against him. To her delight, she felt Vegeta’s thumb start to stroke her knee, caressing her skin. Her heart fluttered wildly, her legs breaking out in goosebumps, and she was glad he couldn’t see the blush that burned her cheeks.

“You’ll owe me dinner later, when you’ve sobered up and are capable of performing proper motor skills.”

Bulma huffed, and for his rude comment dug her finger into his side, or at least tried to. Vegeta grabbed her wrist before she could jab him, and placed her hand back in her lap. Bulma pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I get that a lot,” he said as he reached for a bowl of chips to snack on. She felt his muscles flex as he moved, and as he settled back with his bowl, Bulma let her hand run up his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt. 

“You look really nice,” she complimented, fascinated by his shirt, and the hard muscles beneath it. 

“You seemed to think it was important to dress up,” Vegeta grumbled back, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear him. The effect made his words came out in a soft rumble, his chest vibrating against her cheek. Bulma buried her nose in the crook of the V in his shirt. Vegeta even smelt good, of soap and deodorant, fresh and masculine. She felt a contented, bubbling warmness build inside her. This all felt like a dream. After being so estranged from Vegeta these past few weeks, Bulma could hardly believe she was curled up comfortably on his lap, his arm holding her protectively. She was enjoying being cradled against Vegeta far more than she had any right to be, but she was too happy, or perhaps too drunk, to care about the implications. All she knew was that she would cherish this moment forever.

The karaoke song that was playing ended, and in the sudden quiet Chi-Chi’s giggling was easy to discern. Bulma’s gaze slipped over to where Goku and Chi-Chi had secreted themselves on a bean bag in a corner of the room, talking and cuddling intimately. They looked so cute together. Bulma wondered what kind of picture she and Vegeta were painting right now. Vegeta certainly wouldn’t be smiling, and he wasn’t whispering sweet nothings in her ear; but if he kept petting her knee and murmuring in his deep, growling voice, Bulma wasn’t sure she was going to be able to keep things PG-13 much longer. 

No one else wanted to sing karaoke, so a game was started instead and controllers were passed around to play a competitive shooter. Bulma perked up. “Oh, you like games,” she said to Vegeta, recalling all the times he’d played his gameboy.

“Mm,” he replied noncommittally, but Raditz must have heard. He handed over a controller. 

“Goku says you’re pretty good at fighting. Let’s see if that translates well into the digital world too.”

Vegeta scowled at Raditz but took the controller, unable to let the challenge go unanswered. He shifted his position to get a better view of the tv screen. Bulma remained curled in his lap, and since he didn’t tell her to get off, she took it as permission to remain where she was. Vegeta held the controller in front of her, his arms either side of her body, trapping her in his embrace. 

Bulma smiled and watched them game for a while, but being cuddled against Vegeta’s warm chest, coupled with the late hour and the alcohol in her system was making her sleepy, and Bulma soon drifted off to the sounds of her friends trying to kill each other on the screen, shielded within Vegeta’s arms.

She woke up a while later, something jostling her. “Nooo, I want to stay with Vegeta,” she mumbled sleepily. She thought she heard someone snicker.

She was hoisted up into strong arms. “I’m taking her to bed,” she heard Vegeta say to someone, and she buried her face against his neck, not ready to wake up yet. Vegeta carried her out of the party, down the corridor towards the stair case to their rooms. 

“Are you awake?” he asked her when they were away from the living area.

“Mm, no…” she replied sleepily.

Vegeta chuckled. Surprised by the sound, Bulma blinked open her eyes and looked up at him. He looked down at her, his expression wry. “You’re an extreme pain in the ass, you know that?”

Bulma pouted and buried her face once more. “No,” she denied, curling her fingers in his shirt. “I’m adorable.”

“Ha!” He scoffed.

Bulma pouted harder, feeling petulant. “You’re supposed to agree.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Mm… Sleepy…”

“Not sick?”

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

Bulma hesitated, then nodded.

Vegeta didn’t ask anymore questions, but when they reached the stair case he kept walking. Bulma opened an eye to check their whereabouts, then closed it. “Where are we going?”

“To get you a sports drink,” Vegeta told her. “You’ll need the electrolytes if you don’t want to wake up sick.”

“Oh.” That he was being so considerate made her heart hurt, but in a nice way. She turned her head to hide her smile in his shirt. “Thanks, Vegeta.” 

He huffed but said nothing more. Feeling audacious, Bulma pressed her face into his throat, nuzzling him. It felt so good to be close to him, to be touching him, feeling him, having him hold her so securely. She felt as though she was drugged, not just on alcohol, but on him.

“Cut that out,” he snapped at her, his voice strained, agitated by her canoodling. 

Bulma smiled wickedly against him. “No,” she purred, her voice coming out more breathy than she had anticipated. She continued to rub her face against him, like a cat marking its territory, relishing the way his hands tightened on her, and how she felt his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Bulma, I will drop you,” he warned.

“No you won’t,” she replied smugly. Heady on alcohol and coming apart at his nearness as if his very presence was frying away any good sense that she had, Bulma parted her lips and lightly bit his neck.

“Jesus, Bulma!” He exclaimed, and he dropped her.

Bulma yelped in alarm, but she fell only a couple inches, her bottom thudding hard onto a surface below. Startled, she looked around and saw they were in the gym; Vegeta had dropped her on a table near the refrigerators. He was rubbing his neck and scowling viciously at her.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he demanded.

Bulma bit her lip, trying to look contrite, but she knew she was failing, unable to stop smiling. Vegeta was cute when flustered. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” she said, looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. She could hardly believe how daring she was being, but something about the night was making her feel wild, and Vegeta was reacting too perfectly that she couldn’t help herself from wanting to push his buttons further.

He scowled harder, and Bulma thought that she saw him blushing. “Do I need to gag you?” he asked, incredulous.

Bulma gave him a wicked, suggestive smile. “With what?” 

Vegeta’s brows rose wide, and for a moment he was speechless. “…Jesus _Christ_ , Bulma!” he finally spluttered out, furious at her lewdness.

Bulma laughed. She stretched her arms up and then flopped back on the table, sprawling out. She giggled as she stared up at the ceiling, watching the room spin. This was too much fun!

She heard him make an agitated sound and stomp off. A moment later something heavy was thrown onto her stomach. “Ow!”

“Drink.”

Bulma grabbed the heavy object on her belly and clumsily sat up. It was a sports drink. She tried to open the tight lid, but it wouldn’t give.

Vegeta watched her struggle for a few seconds before rolling his eyes. He snatched the bottle away, breaking the seal on the bottle.

“I almost had that,” Bulma pouted.

“Sure you did. How are you so weak when all your friends are fighters, and you’ve a goddamn gym in your house?” he asked, giving her back the open bottle.

Bulma shrugged and took a ginger sip of the drink. “I’m full of mysteries.”

Vegeta scoffed, folding his arms. “Full of something.” He watched her nurse the drink. “More,” he insisted.

Bulma made a face. “I’m not thirsty.”

“So I guess you’re fine puking later tonight and feeling miserable all tomorrow,” he asked her dryly.

Bulma sighed and drank more of the sports drink. She swung her legs back and forth under the table, watching Vegeta openly like a cat watching bobbing string, waiting to pounce. Vegeta really looked amazing; he was all dark, brooding male, swathed in deep colors that only highlighted his physique and raw, aggressive power. Bulma felt her heart accelerate just at the sight of him, a sight she greedily drank up as she sipped her drink.

He tolerated her staring for only so long. “What?” he snapped.

Bulma smiled coyly. “You look really nice.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve said that already.”

Bulma shrugged. “Because it’s true. You look good enough to eat,” she teased, making a joke about her bite earlier. Vegeta didn’t look amused so she tried a different approach. “Did you dress up for me?”

Vegeta frowned at her. “What?”

She bit her lip, still feeling bold, flirty, knowing it was due to the alcohol, but also not caring. She’d been looking forward to this party all week, hoping, daring for a moment just like this where they could be alone, where she might tempt Vegeta to open up to her, to be honest with her and with himself about how he felt. “I dressed up for you. Do you like it?” she asked hopefully, feeling herself blush and she looked away, suddenly shy. “Maybe I should have worn blue? That’s your favorite color, isn’t it?”

Vegeta scowled at her, giving her a mistrustful glare. “I thought you were trying to impress your ex tonight?”

Bulma shrugged and waved her hand dismissively. “That was just an added bonus.” She looked up at him from under her long, pale lashes. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Do you think I look pretty?”

Vegeta shifted his weight and glanced away, looking uncomfortable. “The alcohol is making you talk more nonsense than usual.”

His cold words were a slap in the face. Bulma could feel her confidence start to crumble. She swallowed and looked down at her feet. She saw that she’d lost her shoes somewhere. “Can’t you even pay me one compliment?” she asked, whispering down at her sad, bare feet.

She didn’t think Vegeta had even heard her. Then suddenly he braced his arms either side of her on the table, and he bent down to look at her eye to eye, their brows almost touching. Bulma couldn’t move, feeling like a deer in headlights, trapped by Vegeta’s dark, piercing glare.

“Bulma. You’re always pretty. When you’re dressed up. When you’re lounging around. When you first wake up and your hair is a mess or when you’re stuffing your face. Even when you’re screaming like a banshee or being an entitled brat, which is most of the time. You’re always pretty. That’s the _goddamn_ problem.”

Bulma held her breath, stunned by his confession. It took a while for his words to sink in, but when they did, she felt something hot swell in her chest, ready to burst. Vegeta was so close, his breath ghosted her lips, his eyes burning into hers with a mix of emotions that were hard to read, but she was sure desire was one of them. Compelled, Bulma leaned in, closing her eyes, and let her mouth brush against his.

For a moment he responded, kissing her back. Then Vegeta broke the kiss with a hiss of frustration. “No, fuck, you’re drunk,” he swore, his voice hoarse. Bulma noticed his muscles bunch beneath his sleeves, his fingers gripping the table so tightly his knuckles were white. He was struggling to restrain himself.

“I’m just tipsy,” she insisted, feeling her chance slipping away. She put her hand on his bicep and she could feel how stiff he was. He looked up at her, and her eyes widened when she saw the anger flash in his eyes.

“You’re a goddamn drunken _flirt_ ,” Vegeta growled, glaring at her furiously.

She looked at him with big eyes. “…For you.”

“And _Raditz_ ,” Vegeta spat back. “And Yamcha.” 

Bulma was surprised by the accusations, by the strength of his resentment. “You sound awfully jealous.”

“And you sound awfully smug,” he snapped back. “Was that your plan? To try and make me jealous tonight, parading about in front of all your male friends?”

Bulma tried not to rise to the bait, suspecting Vegeta was only egging her into an argument to distract her from what they’d almost done. She stuck her nose up. “I was trying to get _you_ to notice me, you jerk.”

Vegeta huffed, clenching his hands in agitation. “When do I not? You’re everywhere I fucking turn. I can’t get away from you!”

Bulma lowered her head. She toyed with Vegeta’s rolled up shirt sleeve. “Gee, you make a girl feel real special,” she said in a small voice.

“Bulma,” Vegeta growled in warning, not caring for her self-pity. She looked up at him with a small, sad smile. He sighed at her, losing his anger, and he stood up. “I am not having this conversation with you right now. It’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Your bed?” Bulma asked, giving him a coy smile and rubbing her toes against his leg.

He scowled down at her, unimpressed. “ _Your_ bed. Alone.”

Bulma pouted, letting her foot drop. She sighed and held her arms up, still holding the drink in one hand. “Fine. Can you carry me? I’m still drunk.”

“I thought you were only tipsy,” he said with a raised brow.

“Pfft, I’m _drunk_ , you can’t believe anything a drunk person says.”

Vegeta gave her an incredulous look, and Bulma smirked at him. He grumbled under his breath as he scooped her up into his arms. As he carried her out, Bulma pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes, disappointed at the turn of events, but at least Vegeta wasn’t too mad at her. Bulma listened to the sound of his heart beat until she drifted off. She didn’t wake up when he put her down in bed, but when he tried to pry the sports drink from her hand she came to.

“Don’t,” she murmured, struggling to hold on to the bottle.

“You can’t sleep with that,” Vegeta protested. 

“It’s the only thing you’ve given me, so I’m keeping it,” she mumbled back stubbornly.

Vegeta stopped fighting her, stunned by her announcement. He cleared his throat. “I’ll get you something else.”

“No, I want this,” Bulma sulked, her eyes still scrunched closed, clutching the bottle tightly to her chest.

Vegeta made an irritated sound and finally gave up, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Bulma smiled smugly in triumph and started to sink back asleep. His voice pulled her back.

“There’s a bowl by the bed in case you’re sick,” Vegeta told her, his words close to her ear.

“M’kay,” she mumbled sleepily.

“And your phone is right there on the table. Use it if you need help.”

“Mm-hm.”

“… You call _me_ if you need help. Not any of your other _friends_.”

Bulma smiled and nodded.

“Do you need anything?”

Bulma snuggled down tightly in her bed, clutching her drink. “Can you pet my hair?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said no,” Vegeta replied tersely, sounding embarrassed.

“Please? It will help me sleep.”

“You hardly seem in need of it.”

“Please?”

“Bulma.”

“ _Please_? Pretty please.”

“Tch. Alright, goddamnit! Enough already.” 

The bed dipped as Vegeta sat down and soon his fingers were brushing through her hair. Bulma hummed in pleasure, enjoying his surprisingly gentle touch. “Mmmm, that’s nice. You’re the best, Vegeta.”

“Shut it, Briefs.”

Bulma smiled and enjoyed the attention. She didn’t want it to end, but she knew it would. She wondered if they’d ever be able to share a moment like this again, or if Vegeta was only pitying her because she was intoxicated. After a minute, she was compelled to speak. “Vegeta?”

“Jesus Christ, what _now_?”

Bulma hesitated, but her mouth was moving without her really meaning for it to. “Do you think it’s okay to have feelings for someone if they don’t want to return them?”

Vegeta’s hand stilled in her hair, and it took him a moment to answer. “… I think instead of that, you need to focus on sleeping tonight off.”

“…Okay,” she said, her voice small, not sure if she felt saddened or amused by his skirting her question.

He brushed his fingers through her hair one last time, caressing her silken tresses reverently before tucking them behind her ear. He leaned in, and his breath was warm over her ear. “Night, Bulma,” he whispered, his words a grumbled promise of protection.

“G’night, Vegeta,” she replied sleepily, and reached out to touch his arm. He slipped out of her reach as he rose, and he left the room. When her bedroom door clicked closed, Bulma soon drifted off, still holding her half-drunk sports drink to her breast.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

**_AN:_ **

_So, what d’ya think? This was one of my favs to write, personally ^_^_

_I also wrote a little Vegebul one-shot drabble that I’ll probably post in a couple days, so keep an eye out for that. It’ll be titled “Routine”._

_I’d also like to thank all my regular reviewers, you guys who leave a review pretty much every chapter, you guys are amazing and I always look forward to reading your guys’ thoughts and reactions, it totally makes my day, so thank you ^_^_


	15. 15 - Camping

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets

**Ch.15 - Camping**

 

The next morning, Bulma woke feeling tired and groggy, her mouth dry, her stomach queasy. But she knew it could have been worse if it hadn’t been for Vegeta to put a stop to her drinking and get some fluids into her. Bulma rolled over, hearing a plastic crunching sound, and she looked down to see the sports drink she’d been clutching in her sleep, half squashed beneath her chest. She blinked at it sleepily, trying to remember the course of events from previous night. Her memories were fuzzy, but they were all there… regrettably. Bulma blushed, groaning as she recalled how flirtatious she’d been with Vegeta. She prayed she hadn’t over done it and ruined their friendship. Bulma brought her hands up, scrubbing her face as if she could scrub away her embarrassment, wanting to hide in her room all day, but she would need to leave eventually, so she finally dragged herself out of bed and got up.

Bulma went to the bathroom, feeling gross. She took a long, hot shower and brushed her teeth, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, she was feeling slightly more human and alive. Wearing just a simple t-shirt and shorts, Bulma wandered sluggishly into the kitchen. Vegeta was already there eating breakfast, sitting in fresh work out clothes ready to hit the gym. As soon as she entered his gaze flicked to her and he frowned speculatively, watching her, her every move open to his scrutiny. “You’re alive, I see,” he commented dryly.

“Yep,” she replied, trying to sound more cheery than she felt and not let on that she’d overdone it with the alcohol. Bulma really didn’t want an ‘I-told-you-so’ speech from Vegeta right now. She grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and took a seat. She tried to open the bottle but was feeling too crappy to put any strength into the action.

Vegeta tsked and snatched it from her hands, opening the bottle in one easy gesture. Bulma was instantly reminded of the previous night when he’d done the same thing for her. She blushed at the memory and took the drink back when he offered it. “Thanks.”

He only grunted.

They ate breakfast in silence. Bulma’s mind kept replaying every one of her humiliations, every flirtatious gesture and comment she’d made, each one coming back to haunt her. And… oh god, had she _bitten_ him? Oh dear god, she _had_. “Are the others still here?” she asked, struggling to think of something to talk about that would get her mind off last night.

“Some left after you went to bed, those that slept over have already eaten and gone home,” Vegeta told her between mouthfuls of cereal.

Bulma nodded, glad she didn’t have to deal with any hung over friends, although the idea that Vegeta might have had to was intriguing to say the least. She wondered if he’d just barked at everyone to get the fuck out. “Thanks,” she said, glancing at him. His eyes flicked up to look at hers and she looked away, still embarrassed. “I really appreciate everything you did last night,” she said down at the kitchen counter, squirming under his scrutiny. She had been a brat, and Vegeta had tolerated her behavior better than she had any right to expect. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his tone indicating he wasn’t just talking about her gratitude. Bulma blushed harder. If he didn’t want to talk about last night, then she was happy to just let it fade away into a cringeworthy memory.

Vegeta finished his breakfast in silence, making quick work of his meal, then placed his dishes in the dishwasher and he began to head out. Bulma was still staring down at the kitchen counter, feeling tired, awkward and ashamed. 

“Here,” Vegeta said suddenly, putting a banana down in front of her. Bulma looked up at him and was surprised to see his expression, soft, almost kind. “You should eat. You’ll feel better if you do.”

Bulma gave him a small smile in gratitude. “Thanks.”

Then he smirked at her, and Bulma felt her stomach twist up, both fearful and turned on. “Just ‘thanks’?” he asked, amused. “Drunk you would have been _ecstatic_ to have received something from me last night.”

Bulma’s face reddened, and she scowled at him, pissed. “Dick.”

“You _wish_ ,” he chuckled cruelly, and left her alone in the kitchen, red as a tomato.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

“Camping?” 

Coach Piccolo nodded at the fight team, the group arranged before him in the school gym. He handed a form to each one of them. “Get your parents to sign these permission slips ASAP. We’ll be going next weekend. It’ll be a great chance to get some exercise outside of the gym and learn about survival beyond mixed martial arts.”

Bulma watched as the coach explained the trip. The fight club had been approved to go camping as some kind of team building exercise. She noticed even Vegeta gave the permission slip a serious look, his eyes raking over the details before he grimaced and shoved it into his bag. Was he actually interested in camping?

“What about me?” Bulma called, standing up on the bleaches, waving her hand to get the Coach’s attention before running down towards the floor.

“Miss Briefs?” Piccolo asked, raising a surprised brow. “This is only for the MMA club members.”

“Aw, c’mon Coach,” Goku prevailed. “Bulma is like, an honorable member. She comes to almost as many training sessions as we do, _and_ all our tournaments.”

“Yeah, she’s like our mascot!” Krillin joked. Bulma glared at him, and he reeled back, the smile on his face instantly vanishing.

The other members also threw in their support for Bulma. She felt touched. “And let’s not forget, I could use a female companion,” Chi-Chi added firmly, linking her arm with Bulma’s. “Or are you going to let me sleep with the boys in a tent?”

Piccolo grimaced at the thought. “Alright, fine!” he threw up his hands, surrendering. “Get a signature and you can come too, Miss Briefs,” Piccolo relented, handing Bulma a permission slip.

Bulma beamed. “Can my parents fax you? They’re currently on vacation.”

“I don’t care how I get it, I just need proof of permission that you can attend,” the coach barked irritably and walked off, calling the practice session to a close. Everyone was abuzz with excitement for the upcoming trip, already making plans and discussing what they should bring.

As Bulma and Vegeta walked home, she glanced at him, noticing the frown on his face. “You’re gonna go, right?” she asked, giving him a light elbow in the side.

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder, frowning. “Can’t. My father is out of the country for work, and isn’t easily contacted. I doubt I’d get a response from him in time.”

“Oh,” Bulma said. She gave him a reassuring smile. “No matter, I’ll just have my dad give permission for the both of us.”

Vegeta gave her a bemused look. “How?”

Her smile grew smug, her eyes twinkling. “He _is_ technically your guardian right now.”

Vegeta’s expression grew surprised; it appeared he’d forgotten that. Then he scowled and looked away. “Tch. Like I’d even _want_ to spend the weekend camping with those idiots. Spending time with them at your party was bad enough.”

Bulma smiled teasingly, not letting him brush the matter aside so easily. “I saw you looking at the permission slip. I know you want to go.”

“Tch.”

“Have you been camping before?” She asked, curious.

It looked like he wasn’t going to answer her at first, but he soon gave in. “…Yeah, a few times, as a kid with my dad.” He paused, lost in thought, then added almost grudgingly, “It was pretty fun.”

Bulma raised her brows. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Vegeta use ‘fun’ to describe anything. “Oh?” she asked, trying not to push him, but desperately wanting to know more about his past.

He nodded, speaking slowly, as if the act of revealing parts of his life was foreign to him. “It’s quiet, and there are little distractions,” he explained, frowning in thought. “You have to stay sharp, because nature can turn on you pretty quickly. But there are no hidden motives or agendas out there; just you, nature, and survival… I like that,” he admitted softly.

Of course he would, Bulma thought to herself, half charmed, half amused. She put her hand in his, and was happy when he didn’t pull his away. “That sounds just like you,” she said, her voice encouraging, grateful he’d shared that with her.

Vegeta gave her an odd look, his expression almost amused. “Have _you_ been camping?”

“Yep,” she said cheerily. “I _hate_ it.”

Vegeta balked. “What? Then why in the hell did you make such a big deal about being invited?”

Bulma laughed. “Because you’re all going. I don’t want to be left behind! _Duh_.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes, his brows pulling into an aggravated scowl. “You’re infuriating!”

Bulma grinned, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Come that Saturday, everyone had gathered at the school to board the mini-bus that would take them to the foothills where they’d traverse a trail up to find camp grounds for their team building adventure. Everyone was excited as they piled into the bus and drove off towards the base of the trail, outside of the city, and even Vegeta seemed to be scowling less than usual. The only two people who weren’t looking happy were Yamcha, who was glowering at Vegeta more than usual, and Bulma, who was feeling pretty unwell. She had woken up with her back in pain, and the huge backpacks they were expected to carry on their hike wasn’t doing her any favors. The giant bags they each carried had to fit clothing, a sleeping roll, a tent, cooking equipment and other supplies, and it dug into her shoulders painfully, already the bane of her existence and they hadn’t even started hiking yet. It was far more weight than she’d ever had to carry before, and on top of her aching back, the whole ordeal was putting her in a foul temper. She could tell Vegeta had noticed her mood by the way he kept glancing at her, but he said nothing, and she didn’t feel up to explaining herself, hoping that somehow things would get better.

After they had all been accounted for and had their equipment checked and been given a thorough lecture on safety by the Coach for perhaps the third time that morning, they headed off up into the hills towards their camp grounds.

Chi-Chi and Bulma paired off and chatted for a while as they hiked, or rather Chi-Chi chatted as Bulma listened, her back hurting too much to make her feel up to contributing to the conversation. After a while Chi-Chi left her to catch up with Gokue, further up the trail. Bulma was surprised to see Vegeta at the front of the hike, astride with the coach. Vegeta appeared to be in his element, traversing the trail with ease, even with his large backpack on. He was scanning the area intently, and now and then would ask the coach questions about the terrain, weather, hunting and other pertinent questions. Bulma would have been impressed if not for how awful she felt.

They marched on, seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into an hour of pure torture. Bulma had fallen into last position in line, struggling to keep up with everyone, sweaty and aching and dismal. She wouldn’t call herself unfit, but she was no mixed martial artist, and her back was killing her. She was regretting ever having asked to come on this stupid trip and was feeling well and truly sorry for herself.

“Hey, are you okay?” Yamcha asked, pausing a few feet in front to look at her, his face worried.

Bulma forced a fake smile. “Yeah, just… you know, not in as good a shape as you guys, haha…”

Yamcha turned around and called up the line. “Hey, Coach! Break?”

Everyone came to a halt. Piccolo looked down the line, and it was clear to Bulma that no one needed a break except for her. She felt herself turn pink, humiliated that she was the reason their hike was being held up when she wasn’t even supposed to be there. Piccolo grunted. “Hm, we’re about half way there, so I suppose we can take 10 minutes. No one wander off though. Just catch your breath, take a drink, and we’ll be on our way, got it?”

They all nodded their heads and took off their bags to sit and get a breather. Bulma dumped her bag with a heavy groan and flopped to the ground, but she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt worse. In only 10 minutes she was going to have to put the damn bag back on and continue the hike, and by the looks of things the terrain would only get steeper. The thought almost brought her to tears. She was out of her element. She didn’t want to be here, to sleep on the rocky ground in the cold outdoors with gross insects and wild animals crawling around, no toilets or hot showers or cell signals about. She’d only come to have fun with her friends, with Vegeta, but right now she was having anything but fun. She was such an idiot.

Bulma rubbed her lower back and tried not to let her self-pity overwhelm her to the point of breaking down, not needing the further humiliation to be caught bawling. 

“Here, have some water,” Yamcha offered helpfully, holding out a canteen for her with a soft smile, sitting down next to her.

Bulma tried to return his smile. She accepted the water and took a small sip. “Thanks… I don’t suppose you have any ibuprofen?”

Yamcha looked concerned. “No, sorry. Do you have a headache?”

Bulma shook her head. “My back,” she said, her gaze slipping away from his. 

Yamcha’s eyes widened knowingly. “Oh,” he replied, sympathetic. Bulma felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed, knowing that he knew her secret. “Hey, someone else should have a first aid kit,” he offered, and was standing up to call out to everyone.

“No, don’t,” Bulma hissed, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back down. She didn’t need for him to tell the whole group about her problem! She knew he was just trying to be helpful, but Yamcha had never really thought through his actions that well.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting back down, looking bashful that he’d upset her.

Suddenly there was a loud thud and Bulma and Yamcha looked up as Vegeta dropped his bag on the ground next to them and sat down. He glared at Yamcha, and surprisingly, Yamcha didn’t look away, glaring right back at Vegeta. It was uncharacteristically antagonistic of him.

Vegeta broke the stare first, turning his back on Yamcha and look at Bulma. “You’re slow,” he told her bluntly.

Bulma could feel her cheeks grow hot and it made her agitated. “I’m aware,” she replied dryly.

“Then try harder.”

“I-”

“Hey, cut her some slack,” Yamcha butt in before Bulma could reply for herself.

Vegeta looked at Yamcha, a nasty smile growing on his lips. Bulma realized this is what he wanted, to antagonize Yamcha into a fight. She hurriedly spoke before things got out of control. “I can speak for myself, Yamcha,” she said, but before she could say anything more, Piccolo shouted at the group.

“Break’s over! Let’s get moving so we have enough daylight to set up camp and enjoy some activities.”

Everyone started to get up and swing their backpacks on. Bulma stood slowly, putting a hand to her lower back and staring down at her pack with a helpless expression. This hike was going to kill her.

A large arm appeared and picked up her pack, and Bulma looked to see Vegeta swinging it onto his chest. “Vegeta-” she protested.

“Shut up and stop dawdling,” he snapped at her, his backpack on his back, hers on his front. He started moving forward, walking as though the added weight were of no concern.

“Pff, _show off_ ,” Yamcha muttered under his breath, his tone startling ugly. His vehemence surprised her, but she had no time for Yamcha’s pettiness. Bulma hurried to catch up to Vegeta, feeling bad that he had to pick up her slack.

She opened her mouth to protest Vegeta’s help, but stopped herself short; he wouldn’t listen to her, and even if he did, she would then be stuck carrying her bag, and there was no way she’d be able to keep pace with the group. Bulma hung her head in defeat. “Sorry,” she mumbled to him, feeling awful.

“Don’t be,” he said, looking ahead at the trail. “I’ve had to carry more than this.” He glanced at her and saw how guilt-ridden she was. His expression softened. “I wouldn’t carry it if I couldn’t handle it, Bulma.”

The use of her name did the trick, and she relented to his greater strength. She gave him a small smile. “Okay, thanks. You’re a life saver.”

He gave her a puzzled look, almost embarrassed by her sentiment, then scowled and looked away.

They marched on for the next hour, and although Vegeta got sweaty, his pace never slowed and he wasn’t breathing any harder than the others. Goku came by and offered to take Bulma’s bag for a while, but Vegeta just sneered at him and picked up his pace, refusing the assistance. Goku shrugged at Bulma before returning to hike by Chi-Chi’s side.

They finally arrived at their campsite, much to Bulma’s relief, not only for herself but for Vegeta. Vegeta dropped their packs and took a few large swallows of water from his canteen, and that was all the rest he gave himself before getting to work on the campsite. Everyone pitched in with various tasks, setting up tents, clearing an area for cooking, collecting firewood, locating fresh water, and designating a place to use as a latrine. 

Bulma and Chi-Chi were tasked with preparing and cooking dinner, not because they were the girls but because they were the only ones who knew how to cook decently, and Bulma was especially happy to leave the more physical duties to the stronger boys. The guys completed their tasks quickly and efficiently. Only Yamcha still had a sour look on his face, throwing Vegeta unfriendly glances when he thought the spiky-haired boy wouldn’t notice. His behavior was really starting to irk Bulma, it was almost as if Yamcha was working himself up to something, and if he thought he had a chance against Vegeta, then he was in for a world of hurt.

But Bulma wasn’t able to pull Yamcha aside and give him a piece of her mind as Piccolo rounded everyone up for a game. Bulma stayed out of it to watch the food, grateful for the chance to rest and sit by the warmth of the portable stove. 

As the group started to play, Chiaotzu suddenly came to a running halt, bent over and threw up, his vomit brightly colored. Every time it seemed like he might have got himself under control, he heaved again.

“What did he eat?” Piccolo asked Tien.

“I don’t know,” Tien said, looking worried. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, damnit… there were berries where we were collecting firewood.”

Piccolo swore colorfully. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO EAT ANY FRUITS OR MUSHROOMS HERE. DID I NOT SAY THAT?!”

Bulma felt her anxiety rise, watching as poor Chiaotzu continued to be sick, not even able to explain himself, his mouth otherwise occupied. “I-is he going to be alright?” she asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Piccolo snapped. “But he needs to go to the hospital.” Piccolo looked at the group and sighed at his predicament, torn between tending to Chiaotzu and chaperoning the group. “Tien, you come with me. The rest of you, STAY HERE. I mean it, if one of you idiots so much as _pisses_ outside of this campsite, I will have you expelled before you can finish shaking it. Got that?”

They all nodded, solemn. Piccolo scooped up Chiaotzu and he and Tien left the camp to hurry down the trail, back towards civilization. After they left, everyone sat down around the camp fire, sobered from the shock of the turn of events.

“He’ll be fine,” Krillin said, sounding like he was trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else.

“Yeah,” Chi-Chi agreed, infusing her voice with false cheeriness.

No one else knew what to say, and silence fell on the camp.

Goku looked at his girlfriend. “Will dinner be ready soon?” he asked.

“How could you _think_ of food at a time like this?!” Chi-Chi asked, appalled.

Goku looked guilty. “Well, what else are we supposed to do?” he asked. “Food always makes _me_ feel better.

“Like I could eat after watching that,” Yamcha said, looking queasy. 

Everyone else nodded in agreement. Time passed with little conversation. By the time the food was finally cooked, most of them had regained their appetites, and Bulma helped serve the meal, giving Goku and Vegeta got extra large portions as they were the biggest eaters. They all ate quietly, the mood still morose, waiting for Piccolo to return. The sun started to sink below the horizon, the sky bleeding orange.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Hours passed, and the coach hadn’t returned yet. It was dark and cold, and everyone was on edge, wanting to hear good news about their friend. Bulma was huddled by the fire, shivering, her thin jacket not providing her with much warmth. If she sat any closer to the fire, she was going to crisp. Bulma was feeling pretty miserable. Her back still hurt, she was cold, worried about Chiaotzu, and Yamcha was getting on her nerves, still glaring at Vegeta, or when he wasn’t, he was throwing her sympathetic looks. It was driving her nuts.

“Here, you can have my jacket,” Yamcha suddenly offered her, breaking the silence of the campsite. He stood up and started unzipping his jacket to give to her.

“She doesn’t need anything you could give her,” Vegeta said, his tone calm, but there was an edge to it that no one could miss.

Yamcha stopped and glared at Vegeta. “I didn’t ask _you_ , did I?” 

Vegeta sneered. “If she’s cold, she should have brought warmer clothes. A little cool air isn’t going to kill her. Don’t use it as an excuse to worm your way back into her life.”

Yamcha gritted his teeth furiously, pointing an arm at Bulma. “Do you even know _why_ I’m offering my jacket to her? You have no idea, do you? Some fucking boyfriend you are.”

Bulma’s eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth to tell Yamcha that, once again, she and Vegeta weren’t dating, but Vegeta stood up, narrowing his eyes at Yamcha. “Sounds like someone’s jealous they blew their chance,” Vegeta ridiculed. “Well guess what, you fucked up and lost her. Which is lucky for her, I might add. But your mistake is on you, so stop blaming _me_ for the fact that _you_ cheated on her and _she_ dumped you.”

Yamcha looked beside himself with fury. She knew she should stop them from arguing, but she found her tongue tied, watching the unfolding drama like an impeding train wreck, unable to look away or prevent what was happening.

“You stupid jackass, I’m not upset about us breaking up!” Yamcha spat back, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at Vegeta’s chest. “I’m upset that she’s being fooled by the likes of you!”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “The only person fooling themselves here is you, and you’ll look more than foolish if you don’t remove that finger from my person,” Vegeta said, his voice low and dripping with malice.

Yamcha dropped his finger, but he wasn’t done talking, turning to face Bulma. “He’s been deceiving you, Bulma,” Yamcha declared. “I tried to tell you he was no good, and now I know. Raditz said some things at the party that got me curious, so I dug around, and it turns out your new _friend_ here was part of a gang. Or still is, for all we know.”

Chi-Chi gasped, the other guys stirred, uncertain how to react. Bulma looked at Vegeta, trying to gauge his reaction to Yamcha’s announcement, trying to see if it was true. Vegeta’s face was shadowed in the flicking light of the campfire, his expression impassive, stony. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he barely moved, rigid and unforgiving. What was most telling was the lack of any rebuff. His eyes flicked over to her, and their gaze locked, his eyes searching hers, and hers his. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She could see him start to close himself off, his eyes growing more guarded, putting up a wall, and his gaze slid away from her, shutting her out completely.

Yamcha wasn’t finished. “Not just any gang, either,” he continued, giving Vegeta a nasty look. “The _Icejin_ gang. You know, only the most notorious and well organized gang in the whole damn country. They have branches everywhere, and there are rumors they have people in places of power in the government and military and everything. They’re mafia. For all we know, Vegeta is a drug dealer, or a murderer!”

“That’s _enough_!” Bulma shouted, her voice furious. She stood up, her hands fisted, trembling in outrage at her sides, her ire directed at Yamcha. “Who gave you permission to air out someone else’s dirty laundry, huh?” she demanded.

Yamcha reeled back, surprised. “Bulma, I…”

“Whatever,” Vegeta cut in, his voice unperturbed, detached, and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, brushing them all off. He walked over to his tent, grabbed his bag, then headed out of the camp, leaving them without another word or glance.

“Vegeta!” Bulma cried, panicked to see him leave. She took a step after him but found herself being held back. She looked over her shoulder to where Yamcha was grabbing her wrist.

“Bulma!” he begged, his eyes desperate. “You’re going to follow him, after everything I just told you?”

Bulma clenched her teeth, so mad she could barely speak. How _dare_ Yamcha dig up secrets on Vegeta that may or may not be true, and even if they were, what right did he have to reveal them to everyone like he did? As if they didn’t have their own dirty secrets or mistakes. “You had _no right_ ,” she hissed at Yamcha, glaring into his eyes with burning fury. “You have no idea about him, or his past, or what he’s been through, or clearly what he means to me if you think any of what you said matters.”

“Bulma, please, I-”

“Let _go_ of me, Yamcha,” Bulma said, knowing full well the double implication her words had. Vegeta had been right, Yamcha had never gotten over her, and she’d only been encouraging him.

Yamcha seemed to realize what her words meant too. He looked heartbroken, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Bulma…”

“Let me go,” she said again, softer, but no less firm.

Yamcha clenched his trembling jaw and lowered his head to hide his face from her, defeated. He let her wrist go. Bulma ran off to catch up with Vegeta, not looking back even as Chi-Chi called out for her to be careful.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_AN: much drama. Very wow._

_Also GalacticShark17 is almost finished with that beat-up Vegeta fanart, there’s a preview on twitter, arrrgghhh I’m so excited to see the finished product! ^_^_

 


	16. 16 - Falling for...

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.16 - Falling for…**

 

 

Bulma ran in the direction Vegeta had taken and she tried to follow what looked to be a trampled path on the forest floor. She called out his name, praying that he hadn’t gone far as the dark night and thick underbrush made it nearly impossible for her to see where she was going.

“Vegeta!” she called, again and again. “ _Vegeta_!”

Whether having grown irritated of her shouting or having come within hearing range, Vegeta finally replied. “Over here.”

Bulma worked her way through low hanging branches to find Vegeta sitting on a rock in a small clearing. Above them, peaking through the canopy, the moon was nearly full, providing just enough light for her to see him by. His bag was dumped on the ground and he was looking down at the ground, his face obscured in shadows. Bulma approached him, her hands on her arms to fight off the cold. She was shivering now that she away from the fire.

She walked up until she was in front of him, then sank to a spot on the ground opposite his stone. She sat, waiting patiently, shivering.

For a while they said nothing, the silence of the woods stretching between them. Finally, he spoke. “…Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?” she replied, hugging her knees to her chest for warmth.

He was still looking down. “If it’s true.”

Bulma squeezed her legs, still shivering. “Do you _want_ to tell me?”

Vegeta looked up at her. His expression was guarded, carefully concealing his thoughts from her. She looked back at him, taking in his handsome features, his familiar scowl and stubbornly set jaw, trying to read him, waiting to see what he’d say in response.

When he didn’t answer, Bulma sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter either way, Vegeta. I mean, honestly… If it’s true you were in a gang, it explains a lot. And if it’s not true, well, I’ve had it pegged for a while that your past wasn’t exactly a nice one, whatever that past might be, but it’s not my place to force you to tell me about it. But to answer your question, if you want to know whether it matters to me that you were in a gang, then the answer is no, it doesn’t.”

Vegeta was reading her face, and she could see him processing her words, weighing the truth of them. “Not ‘were’,” he finally said, looking away, his voice gruff.

Bulma blinked, her brows scrunching in puzzlement. “Pardon?”

He grimaced. “It’s not past tense. I’m _still_ Icejin.” He paused, taking a breath, then let it out, steeling himself and fisting his hands. “That’s why my father and I moved here, we were ordered to. That’s who I was living with, why I didn’t want you coming around. That’s who beats me up. That’s who tried to run you over. That’s who has been controlling and ruining my life ever since I can remember,” he said, his voice rising with each sentence. He looked up at her, his expression raw. Bulma felt her gut clench at the sight of the rage and years of pent up emotion dancing in his eyes, like black fire, burning, consuming him. “The Icejin got my father years ago, and then they got me as a kid. Once you’re in you can’t get out unless it’s in a body bag,” Vegeta spat scathingly. “They’re the bane of my goddamn existence and the only reason I wake up in the morning is to see them _dead_ one day by my hand!” he finished, his hands fisted so tightly they shook, his knuckles white, as if he could crush the Icejin in his very palms from his hatred alone.

Bulma sat still, shocked in the wake of his anger. She’d never seen Vegeta this upset before. This went beyond anger, this was a lifetime of loathing and wrath and pain all bundled up and expelled at once. It was terrifying. But it was the hatred in his eyes that scared her the most. She trembled to think of Vegeta growing up in such abusive circumstances, but more than that, she trembled to see the intent of murder in his eyes. Bulma reached out and placed her hands on top of his fists, trying to quell his fury. “But… if you kill them, they’ll send you to prison,” she whispered hesitantly, fearful for him.

Vegeta looked at her hands wrapped over his. He squeezed his fists one last time, then relaxed them, sighing, some of the intensity leaving him as he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll live through the experience anyway.” 

It was the fatalistic way that he said it, the look in his eyes that sent a cold chill through her. Vegeta wasn’t speaking figuratively. He expected to die. Bulma felt her bottom lip tremble. “What?” she asked, disbelieving, refusing. 

“Taking on the Icejin, it’s suicide,” Vegeta explained, his voice eerily calm, as if talking about the weather. “But if I can cause them even one _tenth_ of the pain they’ve caused me and my father and take out their smug, insufferable leader, then it’ll be worth it. I can die laughing, with pride.”

Bulma stared at him, horrified. Was that really what Vegeta had planned for himself, vengeance, at the expense of his own life? Was that why he trained, day in and day out to get stronger? Is that why he never spoke about the future, or cared to make emotional connections, knowing that his time was ticking down faster than most?

“You can’t,” Bulma said, her voice breaking. “You can’t just throw your life away like that!” Her outcry caused Vegeta to look up, taking notice of her hurt expression. He frowned at the tears he saw shimmering in her eyes.

“What difference does it make?”

Bulma’s face turned furious even as tears slipped down her cheeks. “You _jerk_. It matters to _me_!” She choked out. She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to contain her panic. All this time she’d been so naive, never having guessed the extent of Vegeta’s circumstances or his motives. There was still so little she knew about him, but she would never get to know him better if he followed through with his suicidal plans. Bulma couldn’t handle it, the thought of Vegeta sacrificing himself for something so petty, the image of his broken body lying in a pool of his blood flashing before her eyes. It was too awful, too easy to imagine, she could see that now, that had been the path he’d been going down until she came along and butted into his life. Still, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it anymore, without him constantly there, her broody bodyguard, teasing her, sneering at her, arguing with her about every little, meaningless thing and making her heart pound when he took her hand in his, or looked at her in that odd, intense way of his. Bulma felt words bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t contain them any longer, they spilled out of her next to her tears.

“You _can’t_ die. _I love you_ ,” she confessed, trying to pour all her feelings into those three little words. 

Vegeta’s eyes widened, stunned by her revelation. Bulma watched as he wrestled with the ramifications of her confession, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. It felt like her heart stopped, her gut twisting sickenly, waiting for him to respond. 

Then, slowly, Vegeta thinned his mouth, his eyes growing pained. He pulled his hands back and turned his face away, shutting her out. 

Bulma watched him withdraw, staring wide-eyed, disbelieving. Vegeta refused to look at her or acknowledge her words. That in itself was answer enough. Bulma brought her hands back to clutch at her chest, feeling her heart burst, shattering at his rejection. She lowered her face in her knees and started to weep. They sat there, he withdrawn, her crying, his silence condemning.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, barely audible. “I’m sorry you ever had to meet me.”

His words only made her cry harder, made her heart burn with fury as much as with grief. She couldn’t believe how cruel he was being. Bulma lifted her face and lashed out, striking at his chest, but he caught her hand and pulled her against him, hugging her tightly. Bulma struggled against him but for only a heartbeat before she collapsed weakly into his embrace and sobbed brokenly against his chest. She clutched at his top, devastated that he wouldn’t accept her love, and worse, that he wouldn’t accept his own feelings for her. She was sure he loved her, in some capacity, he’d even said he’d cared for her; her mind played out all the moments they’d shared together, their kisses, the looks, his kind actions, but now he was refusing to acknowledge any of that. She didn’t understand him. It just didn’t add up, and she hated him, hated that he was just going to give up on them, and on life, all for the sake of his vengeance.

“I changed my mind,” she said softly, brokenly, still sobbing. “I hate you.”

Vegeta gave a hollow, humorless laugh. “That’s more like it,” he agreed, his voice dripping with self-loathing. She weeped miserably while he rubbed the small of her back in gentle circles, comforting her even as she cursed him. 

After several long minutes, Bulma started to calm down, crying herself out. She had her head resting on his chest, feeling numb and heartbroken, listening to the sound of his heart beat, shivering in the cold night air. She pressed herself closer against him, the ache in her back flaring up. “Keep doing that,” she told him softly.

“This?” he asked, indicating the circles he was rubbing on her back.

Bulma nodded.

“…Your back is really that sore?” he asked, sounding concerned. That he knew her back was sore at all only proved how much he’d been paying attention to her throughout the day. He cared enough to watch her, but not enough to live for her.

Bulma looked out into the dark night, nodding. “It’s cramps,” she explained. “From, you know… that time of the month.”

Vegeta’s hand paused. After he got over the shock of what she meant, he started rubbing her back again. “Hn.” She smiled weakly to herself. Guys were always so awkward about this sort of thing.  “So that’s why you were more pathetic than usual today,” he commented finally.

Bulma huffed and elbowed him. “I’d like to see _you_ have your abdominals squeeze your insides out each month and not feel some discomfort,” she snapped at him. He didn’t snap back, but the normalcy of their conversation was soothing. This was their norm, bickering about mundane stuff, and the familiarity of it helped to take her mind off everything else, so she explained further. “For me, during this time, standing up for long can hurt. And the cold makes it worse. Heat helps though, and your hand is warm.”

Vegeta said nothing. Bulma wondered what he was thinking, if he was grateful for the change of topic, or if he even cared. Then he stopped stroking her back. He gripped her tightly about the middle so that she wouldn’t fall as he leant forward, digging about in his bag with his free hand. He pulled out a blanket and shook it out before wrapping it around her, tucking the ends in snuggly about her. When she was warmly rugged up, he went back to rubbing the small of her back.

Bulma felt her lip tremble, dumbfounded by his tenderness. It was confusing, frustrating. He crushed her heart one moment, then cherished her the next. What was she to him? She pressed a hand to her face and felt herself begin to cry again, and she tried to be quiet even though she knew Vegeta could feel her hitching sobs. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she stopped. Vegeta let her cry, just holding her, rubbing her back and sharing his warmth with her. When she’d been quiet for a while, Vegeta finally broke the silence. “Yamcha knew, didn’t he?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of aggravation. “That’s what he meant, back at the camp, right? About offering you his jacket?”

Bulma looked down, nodding. “I didn’t tell him,” she said, “he just put it together… He’s seen me go through this a lot.”

Vegeta’s body was tense beneath her. After a moment, he asked, “What else does he know about you that I don’t?”

Bulma was taken by surprise by the question. “Well… a lot, probably. We did date for a while, and we were friends before that.” Vegeta didn’t comment, but Bulma could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn’t happy by the news. Hesitantly, she added, “And it’s not like you and I really _talk_ a lot…”

“I talk to you more than anyone,” he said defensively.

Bulma had to hold back a smile. “More like _fight_ ,” she pointed out, keeping her tone light. She secretly enjoyed their arguments, especially the ones she won, but if Vegeta tried to ‘talk’ to other people the way he did to her, then it explained why he was so bereft of friends. She was also amused that he was so concerned that he didn’t know her as well as Yamcha did. Why did he even care about that when he was planning on ending it all soon in some bloody gang battle?

Vegeta huffed, unhappy with the conversation. While he sulked, Bulma got an idea, and wondered if she could use his jealousy to her advantage, because she was damned if she was going to let Vegeta’s life amount to nothing more than a murder-suicide mission. 

“Do you _want_ to know more about me?” she carefully asked him.

Vegeta struggled to answer, but finally gritted out, “It’s irksome to think that _moron_ knows more about you when _I_ live with you.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. Vegeta was so childish sometimes. “Well, why don’t we make a deal?”

“I don’t like deals.”

“You’ll like this one. Either way, you win.”

“Hmf… What is it?”

Bulma gathered her thoughts before continuing. “Well, first of all. How much time until you can take on those guys?” 

Vegeta’s hand stopped moving, surprised by her question. He didn’t have to ask who _those guys_ were. “… A while,” he finally admitted, and she heard the frustration in his voice. So, the Icejin were strong. Good, that gave them time.

“Then I have a while yet to convince you not to throw your life away?” she said rather than asked.

“Bulma-”

“Shut up, Vegeta,” she cut him off firmly. “Just listen. Here’s the deal. When you’re not training, we can get to know each other better, and I can show you how good the world can be. I can show you that it’s worth staying alive for. All you have to do is give it a fair go. What do you have to lose? If I can’t convince you, you can still go off and needlessly die in glory like you want, OR, I change your mind and convince you it’s worth sticking around. See, either way, you get to choose. So, what do you think?” she finished, holding her breath nervously.

 Vegeta sighed. “It sounds like you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Bulma tried to push away the helpless frustration that was building inside her, the fear that no matter what she did, she was going to lose him. She steeled herself against such thoughts. She hadn’t got this far in life by being a quitter. “Well you know what? It doesn’t matter what you say, because I’m going to try either way, whether you agree to it or not.”

Vegeta laughed softly, the sound of it heartbreakingly pleasant. “Yeah, I know… You’re almost as stubborn as I am.”

Bulma smiled sadly. She hated that he used _almost_ , and hated that she agreed with him. But this time, this time she would have to win. She would have to out stubborn him. His life depended on it.

He held her and continued to rub her back. A cool breeze tugged at their hair. Vegeta raised his hand and brushed her locks from her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We should get you back to the fire, it’ll be warmer there.”

Bulma swallowed at his touch, and nodded, but she didn’t get up right away, reluctant to leave this moment of intimacy, even if it was bittersweet. But the thought of Piccolo returning and finding them missing from the campsite was the motivation she needed. She got up, hugging the blanket tightly around her. “Oh, and don’t worry about Yamcha. I’ll talk to him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t tell anyone else about your gang affiliation or get you expelled.”

Vegeta snorted. “I’d like to see him try. The Icejin are too smart to leave a paper trail, and the school isn’t going to expel me on rumors alone.” He stood up and looked at her, frowning. “Besides, the less you talk to that loser, the better.”

Bulma also frowned, the thought of Yamcha igniting her fury. “True.” Vegeta raised a brow, surprised she agreed with him for once about Yamcha. Bulma suddenly felt abashed for her words. “Well, anyway,” she said, changing the topic. “The first order of business is marshmallows.”

“…What?” He faltered, thrown by her statement.

“Marshmallows,” she insisted. “Have you ever roasted marshmallows over a fire before? That right there is a reason worth living for,” she explained, trying to force herself to sound cheery. Vegeta gave her a queer look. Bulma pressed on, dedicated to the topic now, trying to distract them from their previous conversations with something more lighthearted. “You know, I don’t even like marshmallows that much, but when they’re cooked over a fire and they’re all black and the skin comes off all melty, mmm! You have to try it!” she said, babbling under Vegeta’s heavy gaze. He was looking at her strangely, as if he saw something in her for the first time. It was unnerving and making her flustered. “Vegeta… You’re creeping me out.”

He blinked, snapping out of it his trance and looked away. “…Right.”

Bulma cocked a brow, bemused by his actions. “Okay, well… I’m just going to uh, see to nature before we head off.” She turned to go, but Vegeta grabbed her arm, stopping her. She turned to look at him, surprised. “What is it?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. He closed his mouth and frowned, struggling to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be so tongue tied, he usually said exactly what was on his mind, or nothing at all. Bulma waited, but whatever Vegeta was trying to say he just couldn’t get it out. She finally put a hand over his and gave him an encouraging smile. “What is it, Vegeta? You can tell me anything.”

Vegeta looked at her hand, then at her, his face showing his frustration. He opened his mouth again but still couldn’t speak. He clenched his jaw, making a frustrated sound and let her arm go. “…Be careful,” he finally said, miserably, and dropped his gaze.

They both knew it’s not what he’d wanted to say. 

Bulma smiled as though it was. She was curious, but whatever it was he’d wanted to say, he would have to tell her in his own time. She simply nodded and wandered off into the woods to find a private place to relieve herself before they returned to camp.

It was dark under the trees, the moonlight barely filtering through, the underbrush tugging at her blanket, nearly tripping her. She was just beginning to think she should have brought a flashlight when the ground suddenly dropped out from beneath her feet and she went tumbling through the air.

She screamed as she fell. There was a loud THWACK and pain exploded in her head.

And then there was darkness.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Nothingness. She floated somewhere that didn’t exist, adrift, alone.

She thought she heard someone call her name. It came from very far away, a galaxy away. She struggled to open her eyes. As they fluttered open she saw the most beautiful night sky, a million breathtaking stars glittering overhead. _I’m in space_ she thought inanely to herself, and the notion was pleasing. Then there was a loud CRACK and WHISS and overhead a bright, red light shot into the sky and blossomed, like a never-ending firework hovering in the air. She tried to raise her head to get a better look at it, but she was overcome with pain so intense that she thought she was going to throw up. With a whimper, she passed out again.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

She heard her name again. It sounded closer this time, drifting to her as if on a breeze. She tried to catch it, to float closer to the source.

 “Bulma… Stay with me… Bulma…” 

The words didn’t make sense to her, she didn’t understand. She could feel pain flaring as she drifted closer to the voice, so she started to shy from it, retreating back towards the silence, towards the cool darkness where her pain didn’t exist. The words chased after her like the fingers of ghosts.

“… -ulma, please… No, open your eyes… C’mon, wake up, Briefs… Please… You’re all I’ve got… I forbid you to leave… I forbid it, g-goddamn you… shit… sh-shit… d-don’t do this to me……”

The last thing she thought before she fell back into the darkness was that it sounded like Vegeta. But it couldn’t be him, because Vegeta didn’t cry.

Then darkness took her, and she thought no more.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_A/N: …._


	17. 17 - Awakening

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.17 - Awakening**

 

When she drifted awake, it was with a dawning realization that not everything was okay. She could feel the wrongness in her body, detachment, like she floated an inch above herself, there, but not there. It was similar to being drunk, her body sluggish and numb. She forced her eyes open, and the room she lay in was harsh, white and sterile.

A hospital. 

She frowned and looked around, getting her bearings. Vegeta sat in a chair in the far corner of the room, his gameboy forgotten in his hand, staring pensively out the window. He looked _terrible_ \- dark circles hung under his eyes and on his jaw he sported a scruffy five o’clock shadow that she found appealing, but knew he didn’t usually tolerate. His clothes were a mess, torn and covered in something, mud perhaps. They were the same clothes he’d been camping in, but they looked much worse for wear.

Camping. Right, they had been camping. And she’d been talking with Vegeta and then she went to find a place to pee and … and…

Something happened, and she’d fallen.

Panicking a little, Bulma tried to sit up, wanting to make sure she was in one piece. As soon as she did her head pounded and the room spun. She collapsed back in the bed with a pained moan.

Her movement snapped Vegeta out of his reprieve. He looked over to her, his eyes going wide seeing her awake. He threw his gameboy aside and came over, his expression intense. “How many fingers do you see?” He asked her without preamble, holding up his hand.

“Hello to you too,” she croaked back with a tired smile.

Vegeta scowled at her, unamused. “How many?” he pressed, his tone strained.

Bulma focused on his hand, seeing three fingers held before her face. “Hmm… Six.”

Vegeta’s brows rose with alarm. Bulma laughed at his reaction but instantly regretted it when it caused her more pain. Seeing she joked with him, Vegeta scowled harder. “This isn’t a game, damnit!”

Bulma sighed and gave in. “I see three fingers, grumpy pants.”

Vegeta lowered his hand, looking slightly less tense by her correct answer, but only marginally so. “Do you know who you are?” he asked, his tone still strained. He sounded worried.

“I’m Bulma Briefs,” she replied confidently. “And you’re.. the new guy, Vegeta something, right?” she said, still teasing. Vegeta’s face instantly changed, looking hurt, and Bulma instantly regret her joke. “I’m kidding,” she quickly amended, feeling guilty. “You’re Vegeta Saiyan. You live with me and you’re a jerk but I put up with you anyway because I’m a saint.”

S3he could see Vegeta’s shoulders relax in relief. “You remember…”

“How could I forget?” she smiled softly at him. She didn’t expect him to bow his head, his hands fisting on the bed, supporting himself as he leant over her, as if he suddenly struggled to stay standing. She tilted her head, trying to get a look at his face. “Vegeta…?” He didn’t say anything, keeping his face hidden from her, remaining hunched. She started to worry and reached out, trying to touch his hand. “Vegeta?” she asked again, her voice a whisper. She was scared now, this behavior was so unlike him.

“…You looked _dead_ ,” he said suddenly, his voice hoarse. Bulma froze, his words chilling her. She could see he was trembling, his arms corded, rigid. “There was so much blood from where you hit your head and… You looked dead. I thought…” He trailed off, unable to speak more.

Bulma moved her hand further and was finally able to press her fingertips to his wrist. Her gentle touch undid him. Vegeta raised a hand to his face, sucking in a hard breath, then made a choking sound as he tried to fight back tears.

Bulma was stunned, dismayed, not knowing how to respond. _He’s just a boy_ , she thought, feeling her own eyes start to burn in sympathy. It was easy to forget, with how grown up Vegeta acted, that he was still just a teenager like her, a teen forced to take on more responsibility than anyone their age should have to shoulder. Bulma didn’t know what had happened after she’d fallen, but whatever it had been it had clearly taken it’s toll and shaken Vegeta deeply. Seeing him come apart devastated her. Bulma grabbed his wrist and tugged him in. Vegeta didn’t resist, falling against her compliantly. He wrapped his arms around her as he fought back tears, pressing his face against her chest, clinging to her as if he was afraid she’d disappear. Bulma held him, feeling a pain burn in her heart she’d never experienced before, an ache that she knew could only be fixed by easing Vegeta’s pain. His pain was hers. It was clear to her now that she didn’t just love him, or care for him. He was _everything_ to her. She’d give anything for him, unquestionably undeniably. The depth of her feelings should have scared her, but it didn’t. It was as if a final piece of a puzzle had at last fallen into place. She was doomed to love him, but she was okay with that.

Bulma held him and rubbed his back, stroking the nape of his neck, giving Vegeta all the time he needed. She felt his hands suddenly fist tighter in her gown, and he pulled back, glaring at her furiously, his eyes swam but his face was twisted in his fiercest scowl yet. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” he growled at her.

Bulma’s eyes went wide, stunned. “Do what?”

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, infuriated, like she should have known what he was talking about. “Try to kill yourself, idiot!”

“I… I didn’t?” she said hesitantly, unsure what he meant.

He gave her a little shake. “You walked off a goddamn cliff!”

Bulma blinked at him, stunned. “Oh… I did?” She tried to piece together her fuzzy memories, walking in the woods, being unable to see well, the ground dropping out from beneath her feet… and she felt herself flush hot with embarrassment when she realized what he said was true. She’d fallen off a cliff; what an idiot. “Well… It was an accident,” she stuttered stubbornly.

Vegeta didn’t seem pleased with her answer. “It had better’ve been! Do you’ve any idea what I’ve-… Don’t ever do it again, you hear me? Promise me right now.”

“It’s not like I meant to fall!” she said defensively.

“Promise me, Bulma!” he shouted, his hands gripping her arms tightly.

She could feel her heart hammer hard in her chest, alarmed by his fury. “ _Okay_ , I promise!” she shouted. Then she took in a breath, calming herself. “I promise,” she repeated more calmly, hoping to imbue some of her calmness into him.

Vegeta stared at her suspiciously as though trying to find a flaw in her promise, but when he couldn’t, he relaxed, the coil of tension inside him easing, and he leant forward to rest his brow against hers. He sighed, clearly relieved, and closed his eyes. “Good. I can only protect you so much. I can’t protect you from your own stupidity too.”

Bulma scowled at him. He opened an eye to peek at her, then closed it, a weak smile curling his lips. That jerk, he was making fun her. Despite herself, Bulma found her own lips turning up in response. There was something contagious about Vegeta’s boyish smiles. 

She took the opportunity to admire him from up close, only an inch away from him. He looked so worn, and it was all because of her. It broke her heart. As if sensing her gaze, his eyes opened and she was caught, locked in his dark, intense stare. If his face was worn, his eyes were not, powerful and captivating, like a storm. Bulma found herself unable to breathe as she lost herself in his eyes. She felt so safe with him, especially now as she lay sheltered under Vegeta, his body shielded her, his brow bunted against hers. He was so close she could smell the sweat and dirt on him, and feel his breath on her cheek. “I don’t know why you need to protect me at all,” she said softly.

“Tch, clearly I do,” he murmured, his tone softer than before. He raised a hand and stroked her cheek. His eyes flitted down to watch his thumb caress her skin, and he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. Bulma felt her breath hitch at the feather light touch on her mouth, and heat rose to her face.

“Why?” she stammered, barely able to speak.

Vegeta titled his head ever so slightly and leaned in. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her closer, tipping her face up to his own. Bulma’s eyes widened, her breath shortened and mingled with his, their lips almost touching, but not quite. She felt her face flush further.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked, his words husking against her mouth.

“Wh-what?”

“Before you fell, you said you hated me,” Vegeta reminded her, his eyes once more staring into hers, demanding all of her attention, captivating her.

Bulma’s mind shorted out, and she shook her head dumbly. “No, never.”

“Good,” he said, accepting her response, and he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her ever so softly.

Bulma’s eyes fluttered closed, a tiny moan escaping her lips. She sank against the hospital bed, melting under him as he kissed her with a care she hardly thought possible from him. The whole world faded away until all that remained was him, his hand cradling her head as he tenderly kissed her lips, over and over again. 

Bulma brought her hands up, curling her fingers in his dirty shirt, feeling his hard, broad chest beneath. The contact spurned him on and his mouth grew more insistent. He started kissing her with a growing hunger and he pushed her further back against her pillow, climbing on top of her. Bulma’s fingers tightened, tugging him closer, enjoying the weight of his powerful body over hers. He was dominating, overpowering her body, mouth and mind, and she willingly let him.

They finally broke apart for air, panting against each other’s mouths. Bulma’s lips felt swollen and tingly. She wasn’t ready for it to be over, to analyze what it all meant. She tugged him back towards her mouth. “More,” she breathed insistently.

Vegeta chuckled, a low, rumbling bedroom sound that sent shivers of pleasure right through her. He looked at her, his eyes alight with a dark fire, his mouth curling up in a cocky grin. Bulma blushed hard and yanked him down to kiss him. He kissed her back eagerly, taking the lead until she was nothing but a helpless, trembling thing of pleasure beneath him, letting him do as he pleased with her mouth and his wandering hands.

It came to an abrupt end when Vegeta’s hand came in contact with something painful on her scalp.

“Ow,” she hissed, breaking the kiss as a strong pain bloomed at the back of her head.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, panting against her lips, struggling to get himself under control.

Bulma raised her hand to touch her head, feeling a bandage. “Are these stitches?” she asked, a little alarmed to realize she was injured.

Vegeta nodded, watching her closely. “Yes, you hit your head when you fell,” he explained. “Which ironically saved you, since you fell limp and didn’t seriously injure yourself.” Vegeta frowned, getting lost in unpleasant thoughts. “But the doctors were worried about your head, about memory loss… that you might not even wake up…”

Bulma felt her heart beat pick up at the news. She’d rather lose a leg than suffer a brain injury. Her smarts meant everything to her. “But I’ll be okay, won’t I?”

“I think so, but you’ll need to ask the doctor to be sure.” He climbed off her and helped her to sit up, lifting her upright in one smooth, easy maneuver as if she weighed nothing. It had her heart beating fast all over again, and she ducked her head to hide her blushing cheeks as he tucked the blanket about her. “I’ll get the doctor,” he informed her, and he turned and left without looking back.

Bulma sat there, waiting, trying to process everything. She was a little worried about her head injury, but more prominent on her mind was what had just happened between her and Vegeta. She could still feel him on her lips, and her body already missed his closeness. She bit her lip, blushing, and tried to calm herself down before the doctor came to see her.

Vegeta returned shortly with a doctor to look her over. The doctor ran through a series of exercises to check her memory and her vision. After the tests were complete the man finally smiled and filled out her chart. “Well, you’re lucky. It seems you survived a hefty fall with only some minor injuries. We’ll keep you here for observations one more day, but I think you should be good to go home tomorrow, Mrs Briefs.”

Bulma relaxed into the bed, relieved. “Thanks, doctor.” She paused, then frowned. “ _Mrs_ Briefs?” she asked, wondering if there’d been a mistake.

The doctor gave her a sharp look, then glanced at Vegeta. “Yes, your husband…” he started to say, indicating Vegeta, who shuffled awkwardly in the back of the room, glancing out the window. The doctor’s eyes then darted to Bulma’s hand. She followed his gaze and was surprised to see an elaborate ring on her finger. She certainly hadn’t been wearing that when she went camping.

Her eyes widened. She looked at Vegeta again, who was still avoiding her gaze, but Bulma put two and two together. Vegeta had lied about their relationship to be omitted to see her outside of normal visiting hours. Where he’d gotten the ring from she had no idea. She gave the doctor an embarrassed smile. “Uh, right… We’re newly married. I’m… still getting used to the idea, haha…”

The doctor gave her a worried look, then glanced back at Vegeta. Vegeta shrugged nonchalantly at him as if to say it was typical behavior of his ‘wife’. “Well… Keep a close eye on her,” the doctor advised Vegeta meaningfully, patting Vegeta’s shoulder and then with a last concerned look at Bulma, left the room.

Vegeta watched him leave. He gave Bulma a quick glance before looking down at his feet. Bulma cocked a brow.  “So I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because I don’t remember a _thing_ about our wedding.”

Vegeta clenched his jaw. “They weren’t going to let me in if I wasn’t immediate family. Morons,” he muttered under his breath.

“So it didn’t occur to you to say you were my ‘brother’?” she asked. Vegeta scowled and didn’t reply, looking uncomfortable. Bulma smirked. “I guess I didn’t take on your name?” she teased further.

He glanced at her, shrugging a shoulder. “Your family is the one with health insurance.”

 _Fair point_ , she conceded. She looked back at her hand, examining the ring. It was vintage, beautifully carved and jeweled. Bulma knew expensive, quality jewelry when she saw it. She held up her hand. “Where in the world did you get this?”

Vegeta looked at the ring, then away. He shrugged again, and Bulma thought he might not say, but then he shoved his hands into his pockets and finally confessed, “It was my mother’s.”

Bulma couldn’t hide her surprise. She looked at the ring again, appreciating it in a whole new light. “Oh… It’s beautiful.”

Vegeta nodded in agreement. “It’s the last thing of hers I have. My father sold or threw out most of her possessions. I was able to… re-acquire this,” he admitted without meeting her gaze, and Bulma chose not to ask what underhanded methods Vegeta had used to get his mother’s back. 

Bulma admired it for a while longer, before regretfully pulling the ring off her finger. She offered it back to Vegeta. “Here.”

He glanced at the ring, then looked away, out at the window. “You keep it.”

Bulma felt her mouth drop open. She shook her head. “No, Vegeta, I couldn’t. It’s too precious.”

He scowled at the scenery. “That’s why you should have it,” he insisted softly. He gave her an embarrassed sidelong look, then glanced away. “If you want it.”

Bulma couldn’t believe what he was saying. He wanted her to have it, because it was precious to him? On top of which, he’d just kissed her. A lot. Bulma didn’t know how to reconcile that with what he’d said, or _not_ said, at the campsite. Every time she thought she had Vegeta figured out, he’d do something else to confound her and twist her feelings all about. “I…” she started to say, but she didn’t know how to finish her sentence.

Vegeta made an agitated sound and suddenly came over to the bed. He snatched the ring from her and picked up her hand, slipping the jewelry back onto her finger. “You should at least wear it until we’re out of here,” he grumbled, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Besides, it’s a better gift than a stupid plastic sports drink.”

Bulma felt herself blush as he slipped the ring on. She looked up at him and they locked eyes. Vegeta scowled at her. “It’s _just_ a ring. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

She smirked at him. “Like what, _Mr. Briefs_?”

Vegeta grimaced. “Like that.”

“Hey, you started the whole ‘married’ thing, not me.”

“Tch.”

Bulma laughed and Vegeta looked away from her, embarrassed. She ran her fingers over the ring, treasuring it. “I’ll take good care of it, until you want it back,” she said. Vegeta didn’t argue the point any further, so she figured he was happy with that compromise. “I can’t believe you were just carrying this around with you. That doesn’t seem very safe.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied testily.

“Wasn’t what?”

“Just carrying it around. I was going to gi-…” he cut himself off with a frown, looking embarrassed.

Bulma raised a brow. “Give it to someone?” she suggested.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gruffly, trying to change the subject.

Bulma smirked and shook her head, lying down. “No. Just sleepy.”

He nodded. “Rest,” he told her.

Bulma nodded, getting comfortable in the bed. She curled up on her side, watching Vegeta as he stood over her. “Are you going to stay?” she asked.

He gave her a guarded look. “Do you want me to?”

Feeling brave, Bulma nodded.

Vegeta pulled up the chair he’d been sitting in when she’d first come to. He sat right next to her. “I’ll be here.”

Bulma smiled and closed her eyes. Under the covers, she toyed with the ring on her finger, clutching her hand close to her chest. She drifted off almost instantly, utterly exhausted. 

She woke after a short nap to find Vegeta had slumped over, resting his top half on the side of her bed. She watched him sleep next to her, the soft rise and fall of his chest comforting. He must have been exhausted, poor thing; Bulma suspected it was the first sleep he’d gotten since her fall, however long ago that was now - hours, days? She didn’t even know what day it was, but she didn’t really care, so long as he was with her.

Boldly, she reached out and put her hand over Vegeta’s. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her, his face tired, washed out. She gave him a small, shy smile. He closed his eyes, but entwined their fingers together, gently squeezing her hand.

Bulma squeezed back and let her own eyes close and fell back asleep, happy.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The next time she awoke it was to the sound of Chi-Chi bossing Vegeta around.

“ -nd your clothes! You need to go home and clean up. How do you expect to take care of her if you can’t take care of yourself?”

“No one asked for your opinion,” Vegeta snapped back. “And I’ve been doing just fine without any of you.”

“Hey, she’s just trying to help,” Goku’s voice piped in defensively. 

Bulma opened her eyes and peered around the room. It was empty, but the door to the hallway was open and she could see her friends arguing outside her hospital room.

“Have you even slept?” Chi-Chi accused. “You look like hell.”

“I was _trying_ to sleep when you lot showed up and started criticizing,” Vegeta snarked back. 

“Well…” Chi-Chi said, sounding contrite. “You should still go and shower and change, maybe get the house set up for her return. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone. She’ll probably be grateful for the female companionship, there’s some things a guy just can’t help with, you understand, right?”

Bulma couldn’t see Vegeta’s face, but she could imagine his appalled look by his flustered silence. She smirked, knowing Chi-Chi had won. All a girl had to do was hint at ‘feminine issues’ and boys would run the other way.

“Fine!” Vegeta spluttered, and she saw him stomp off. A moment later Chi-Chi and Goku entered the room. Bulma felt bad that Vegeta had been chased off, but Chi-Chi was right, Vegeta did need to take some time out for himself, he had looked pretty haggard.

“Oh, did we wake you?” Chi-Chi asked when she spotted Bulma. “You were asleep a moment ago.”

Bulma smiled and shakily pushed herself up into a sitting position. She was surprised to find she felt worse than the last time she’d woken, but she supposed the pain killers were wearing off, and she was feeling every little ache and pain from her tumble down the mountain side. “Thanks for visiting.”

“Oh honey, I’m so glad to see you’re okay!” Chi-Chi declared and gave Bulma a huge hug. “We were all so scared! We saw the flare and came running over and Vegeta was screaming at us to get help and screaming at you to wake up and you weren’t responding and it was all so stressful!”

Bulma felt the air get squeezed out of her as Chi-Chi hugged her tightly and rambled on. “Chi-Chi, you’re suffocating me!” Bulma wheezed.

Chi-Chi let her go with a guilty look. “Right, sorry, I just got carried away. It’s just… so amazing to see you in one piece!” Chi-Chi finished with a wet, trembling smile.

Bulma looked at Goku who also nodded in agreement. He was smiling, but she could see the worried creases around his eyes. It appeared she’d given everyone a pretty big scare. “Was it really that bad?” she asked.

“Did Vegeta not tell you?” Chi-Chi asked, her eyes widening in shock. 

Bulma shook her head slowly. Vegeta had only mentioned that she’d fallen and hit her head, and… “Just that he thought I was dead.”

Chi-Chi glanced at Goku and the two exchanged a look, then Chi-Chi looked back at Bulma, her expression somber. “Honestly, we _all_ did. You fell a _really_ long way, a few stories I’d say. You hit your head while falling and…” Chi Chi went pale. “There was _a lot_ of blood, and you weren’t moving. The doctor told us that head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but really, you should have seen it. Vegeta was _covered_ in it.”

Bulma let the news soak in, feeling a chill at what Chi-Chi was telling her. Her mind went back to Vegeta’s disheveled state. She thought he’d been covered in mud, but she now it would seem the dark stains on his clothing had been her blood. Bulma’s mouth felt dry. “But, how?” she asked, confused. “How did he even reach me if I fell? What happened, I don’t remember any of it.”

Chi-Chi nodded, happy to oblige. “Well, you remember running off after Vegeta, right? You two were gone a while. I was just about to send Goku after you when suddenly someone - Vegeta - shot a flare in the sky. Goku and I got the others and we hurried over. At first we thought it might have been the coach signaling us, but then we heard Vegeta yelling to be careful because there was a cliffside and that you’d fallen down it, and that we needed to get help.”

Goku nodded and took over. “Vegeta was already climbing down the cliff to get you when we reached your location. Man, he sure is brave,” he laughed, sounding impressed. “If he’d fallen or lost his grip, he could have killed himself, but he didn’t hesitate, he just climbed right on down to your position. We watched as he slipped and cut himself up trying to navigate the cliff in the dark. When he finally got down to you he tried to rouse you, but you weren’t moving or responding, just bleeding everywhere…”

“That’s when the Coach came back,” Chi-Chi picked up the story again. “He was close and saw the flare and came to our location. Thank GOD he’d brought a radio with him this time, so we called for an emergency evacuation. Oh, and Chiaotzu is fine too, he just ate some bad berries and got his stomach pumped. Anyway, Vegeta stayed with you and helped get you into the rescue helicopter and somehow convinced the hospital staff to let him stay by your side while the rest of us had to wait until visiting hours,” Chi-Chi finished, glancing at Bulma’s ring finger not so subtly. Bulma blushed, knowing that her friends had probably heard from one of the hospital staff that she was with her ‘husband’.

Bulma didn’t know what to say after such an incredible story. She felt terrible she’d caused everyone to worry so much about her because she’d made such a dumb mistake. She felt even worse that it had put Vegeta’s life in jeopardy too. 

Chi-Chi and Goku must have seen the worry on her face, because Chi-Chi gave her a hug and Goku patted her on the shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re okay and everyone is safe,” Chi-Chi said warmly. “We can talk details when you’re recovered,” she whispered conspiringly into Bulma’s ear.

Bulma blushed and nodded, glad Chi-Chi wasn’t going to press her for information just yet. She wasn’t even sure she could explain what was going on between her and Vegeta as she didn’t really know herself. It seemed like her near death experience had awoken something in Vegeta, but what, and how long would it last until he shut her out again?

Chi-Chi helped Bulma to the bathroom, and helped her clean up a little. It was the first time Bulma saw herself in the mirror, and she was alarmed to see how pale face her was, and how bruised her body was, her skin covered in blue and green splotches. After she’d freshened up, Bulma lay back down as Chi-Chi and Goku made small talk, discussing how amazed they were with Vegeta’s fearless and devoted efforts towards her. Bulma tried not to blush as she listened, and soon drifted off, her mind conjuring up memories - real or imagined - of falling down the cliff, Vegeta finding her frail, broken body, and he clung to her, screaming in anguish as she bled out all over him…

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_**A/N:** have you forgiven me for the last chapter yet?  >:)  It was great to read all your reactions and theories about what had happened. ^_^_

 

 

 


	18. 18 - Mine (w/ FANART)

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.18 - Mine**

 

Bulma woke up feeling warm and safe. She had to blink her eyes open a few times before she recalled where she was and who she was next to. She was still in bed at the hospital. Chi-Chi and Goku were gone, but Vegeta had returned and was lying next to her, one heavy, muscled arm draped protectively over her. She could smell soap and clean skin and could see that Vegeta had shaved and changed his clothes. His hair was still damp; he’d clearly come straight over from a shower, not even waiting for his hair to dry. At least he looked better than before, less tired and covered in blood, his brief respite having done wonders for him. He was sleeping soundly next to her, getting some much needed rest. Even in sleep his face looked serious, but his brow wasn’t pulled into its usual scowl and it made Vegeta appear younger, more peaceful. Bulma smiled to herself and wriggled in closer against her sleeping protector. 

Her eyes traveled down and she saw something familiar peeking out from Vegeta’s back pocket. It looked like a phone; it was hers. Surprised, Bulma gently snuck her hand around and wriggled her phone free from Vegeta’s jeans, trying not to wake him.

She checked her recent activity and found a few outgoing calls to her parents that she hadn’t made. The first couple hadn’t been answered, but the most recent call had lasted ten minutes. Bulma was amazed, impressed that Vegeta had thought to call her parents. She hoped they weren’t too worried. Bulma slipped her phone back into Vegeta’s pocket.

“It’s not polite to snoop,” Vegeta mumbled sleepily, not even opening his eyes. 

He startled Bulma so much she yelped. Did he always have to have the reflexes of a ninja? She glared at him. “It’s _my_ phone,” she countered haughtily.

“It’s _my ass_ you keep touching.”

Bulma stiffened, blushing. She saw the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. “Jerk,” she murmured sourly.

Her petulance only made the smile on his lips grow wider. The arm he had draped over her shifted, and he slid his hand down the small of her back until he cupped her rump in his hand. “There. Now we’re even.”

Bulma quickly turned tomato red, laying stiffly against Vegeta, her only thought being he was touching her butt. Vegeta was _touching. Her. Butt_. He tugged her in against his own body by her ass, and Bulma’s traitorous mind replayed the memory of them making out on this very bed. She felt her heart start to pound so hard in her chest she was sure he would be able to hear it. Vegeta lay next to her as calm as you pleased, but Bulma felt like she was going to burst into flames.

“I don’t think I can sleep like this,” she finally admitted. Sleep was, after all, the last thing she could think about with Vegeta grabbing her ass.

“Oh?” he purred, and cruelly started to massage a cheek.

Bulma sucked in a sharp breath as she felt herself react, a tremor of pleasure running down her spine, between her legs. She knew Vegeta felt it too, and he shifted to press his face into her hair. 

“You’re wound up pretty tight,” he murmured suggestively into her locks. “How long do you think it’d take me to finish you, just by doing this?” he asked, emphasizing his point by giving her ass another firm squeeze, his fingers slipping lower until they teased the edge of her panty line, headed in a very personal direction.

“Vegeta!” Bulma squealed, trembling, but she was solidly trapped against his solid front. “Someone could come in at any moment!”

She heard him laugh softly but his hand fell away and returned to her back, keeping her pulled snuggly against him. “You’re too easy.”

Bulma scowled and hit his bicep, furious that he would tease her. He took the abuse without complain, still keeping a firm hold on her. She sagged, giving up. “You’re such a dick. What ever happened to your father forbidding us, huh?”

Vegeta’s smirk faded, his expression becoming more serious, thoughtful. He opened his eyes and looked at her, taking in her face before closing his eyes again. “I almost lost you,” he said, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t. “And?” Bulma pressed impertinently.

“Tch. Go to sleep.”

“No,” Bulma insisted. “I deserve an explanation Vegeta. You can’t keep toying with me like this, kissing me one day then shoving me away the next. What am I to you, what are we, what is this?”

Vegeta scowled. He was silent a while, thinking, gathering his thoughts. His hand tightened on her back possessively. His throat bobbed, and finally he came to a decision. “You’re mine,” he admitted gruffly. “I won’t let anything get in the way of that anymore.”

Bulma felt the air catch in her throat, and for a moment she thought she’d misheard him. But the weight of his confession sank in, filling her with a hope she’d dare not encouraged before. “D-does that mean, we can…?”

“Yeah.”

Bulma swallowed, and she fought to not let her emotions get the better of her. She pressed her face into his chest before she could ruin the moment with her tears, overwhelmed with relief and barely able to believe what was happening, what he was at last agreeing to. Finally, Vegeta was going to throw his father’s rules to the wind and not let anything else come between them. All it took was for her to nearly die. Go figure.

She clung to him and he rubbed her back until they both fell into much needed sleep, clutching each other closely.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The next morning they were awoken by a nurse bringing in breakfast. Bulma offered to share her meal with Vegeta, but he shook his head, insisting she eat. He claimed to have had his fair share of hospital food and didn’t much care for it, but Bulma wasn’t buying his excuses. Vegeta was _always_ hungry. Still, he was determined not to take any of her food, so she ate what she could and only when she was going to throw out the leftovers did Vegeta help himself, claiming it would be a waste if she just put food in the trash. Bulma smiled as he ate, amused that he was putting her welfare before his bottomless stomach.

The doctor returned later to check her over once more, and after passing all his tests, Bulma was given the clear to return home. “Make sure you take it easy for the next week or so,” he insisted. He looked at Vegeta. “You should see she doesn’t over exert herself, and refrain from any strenuous _activity_ with your wife until she’s healed.”

“Right,” Vegeta drawled, looking embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as Bulma who couldn’t meet the doctor’s gaze after his implication. 

A nurse brought them a wheel chair and Vegeta took over, picking Bulma up and placing her in the chair before pushing her out of the hospital. Bulma was surprised to find a taxi waiting for them. It reminded her of the time Vegeta had refused a cab when he’d broken his ribs. Bulma gave him a questioning look, intrigued that he was now okay with getting a ride.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Your dad’s paying for it,” he snapped back, as if that were explanation enough. Bulma smiled knowingly. Vegeta was cute when he was embarrassed.

When they returned to the house, Vegeta scooped her up out of the taxi and carried her up the front porch. The doorstep was littered with flowers and get-well gift baskets, all of which Vegeta ignored, stepping over them and taking her inside. He took her straight to the bathroom and placed her on the closed toilet lid. Already prepared on the counter were some of her clothes - pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and even clean underwear. She blushed and scowled at the thought of him digging about in her draws, but she couldn’t really get that angry about it since he’d done so for her benefit. Then she watched as Vegeta turned on the shower.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked him.

“You should shower and change,” he said, pulling out a clean towel. Once the shower was steaming hot, he came over to her and looked at her assessingly. “Do you need help undressing?”

Bulma blushed and wrapped her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not.”

Vegeta smirked. “Hm, yell if you need anything.” And he walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind him. Alone at last, and not sure how she felt about that, Bulma shakily got to her feet and started undressing. Or at least, she tried to. Her bruised muscles had stiffened up from so much time lying in a bed and sleeping. She struggled to pull her top over her head, and only go so far as her shoulders before her arms couldn’t go any further without the pain becoming unbearable. After struggling for five minutes, Bulma kicked the trash can in frustration.

“Everything okay in there?” Vegeta called from the other side of door. Embarrassed, Bulma  realized that he must have stayed outside the door for her this whole time.

“Yes,” Bulma called back testily, then a moment later amended her statement with a pitiful, “No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t…” she started to say but trailed off, humiliated and vexed at her own uselessness.

“I’m coming in,” Vegeta announced and after a polite pause, the door opened. He gave her a quick glance over and instantly saw what the problem was. “Put your hands up,” he instructed her, coming over.

“If I could do that, I could undress myself,” she huffed, miffed that she needed his help for so simple a task.

Vegeta rethought his strategy. “Here then.” He helped lift her shirt off bit by bit, and with a bit of wriggling and manipulation, they managed to get the top off her, leaving her only in her bra. “Try wearing a button up next time,” he told her ruefully.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bulma mumbled, not meeting his eyes as she hugged her chest, embarrassed to be so exposed in front of him. She felt shy, shier than usual, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. She saw he was looking at her, but he was frowning. That certainly didn’t help her confidence. “What?” she snapped at him.

Vegeta looked away, his expression solemn. “… Nothing.”

Bulma caught her reflection in the mirror, and balked, feeling as though she’d been punched in the gut. Her entire torso was one big, ugly, blotchy bruise. She looked like she’d stepped out of a horror show, gruesome makeup and all. She was pretty proud of her slender physique, but now she looked as if she was trying out for a zombie extra, all blotchy, rotting-colored flesh. This was _not_ how she wanted Vegeta to see her naked! Bulma picked up her discarded top and tried to cover herself up with it, hiding her ugly body. “You can go now!” she said tersely, humiliated, her hands trembling. Was Vegeta disgusted with her? She wanted to cry.

Suddenly large, warm arms wrapped around her, tugging her in. Vegeta hugged her and pressed his mouth to her temple. “Looks like it hurts,” he mumbled sympathetically.

Bulma squeezed her eyes closed. “Please don’t look, please. It’s so ugly.”

“Hardly. They’re badges of honor,” he said, his words surprising her. “You got your ass handed to you, but you got up, you survived. And you’ll be stronger for it.”

Bulma listened raptly, unable to help thinking she was getting a small peek into Vegeta’s psyche. Had he told himself as much whenever he’d received a beating? How many times had she seen him bruised and beaten? And she’d never thought he looked ugly because of it, she’d only pitied his pain and wanted to help him. Was Vegeta doing the same for her now? Bulma sighed and allowed Vegeta to comfort her. She nodded, and with a final squeeze he let her go. 

“How about those?” Vegeta asked, indicating her pants. 

Bulma shook her head. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

“Pity,” Vegeta said, giving her a small smirk.

Bulma scowled and shoved him away, trying not to smile. “Out.”

“I’ll just be outside the door,” he reminded her with a lilting grin, and left again.

Bulma finished undressing and took her time in the hot shower, washing her body and hair until she was squeaky clean, the hot water doing wonders for her stiff muscles. When she stepped out and slipped on her clean clothes, she felt a whole lot better, her nerves and doubts having washed away with the water down the drain. Vegeta was waiting for her when she stepped out. His eyes gave her a once over, then flicked to her hand, noting the ring she still wore on her finger. Neither of them said anything about it, but she thought she saw the hint of approval on his face.

They spent the rest of the day on the couch, watching movies and playing games together, taking it easy for Bulma’s sake. Vegeta raided the fridge for snacks and food, as well as getting the gift baskets from the front porch which they sampled together and read all the messages, Vegeta making fun of the more sappy ones. When that wasn’t enough food, he ordered delivery. It was one of the most relaxing and pressure free days Bulma had enjoyed in a long while, and it was remarkable to think she could enjoy it with Vegeta without any arguments. 

When they were on their third movie, Bulma felt a weight on her shoulder. She looked and saw Vegeta had nodded off, his head falling to the side to rest against her. She smiled, endeared, knowing Vegeta was exhausted from taking care of her, first in the hills, then at the hospital, and now today. Scratch had also taken advantage of Vegeta’s exhaustion, and curled up in the boy’s lap, making for quite the cute picture. Bulma let her own head rest against Vegeta’s with a smile, allowing herself to feel content. She didn’t remember how the movie ended, falling asleep against Vegeta before it finished.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Her alarm blared. Bulma groaned and snuggled down further in her blankets. Blankets… she frowned, not recalling how she’d gotten from the couch to her bed. She peeked and saw Vegeta was next to her, Scratch asleep at the foot of the bed. Vegeta must have woken and carried her to bed during the night. She heard a groan emanate from the muscular young man beside her; Vegeta was on his stomach, his head turned away. As the alarm continued to blare he pulled his pillow over his head.

“Can you end that infernal sound?!” he grumbled.

Bulma smiled and hit the snooze on her alarm.

Vegeta mumbled something incomprehensible, falling back asleep. Daring to be brave, Bulma reached out and ran her hand over his back, delighting at the feel of his supple flesh and muscles under her fingertips. Vegeta sighed, sinking further into the bed, soothed by her touch. She smiled and pressed herself against his side, cuddling up close. He responded by turning around to face her, pulling her in tight. Bulma grinned, elated. She could have stayed curled up with him forever, and she felt herself drifting off when the alarm started blaring again.

Vegeta tensed, growling. “Turn it _off_.”

“What about school?” she protested.

“In _your_ condition?”

“Did _you_ skip school when you were bruised up?” Bulma asked.

Vegeta scoffed. “I’ve had years of practice, and I’m a lot stronger than you are. People expect a guy to have some bruises now and then.”

That had been the wrong thing for him to say. Bulma felt her stubborn pride prickle. “Oh, so I can’t have bruises because I’m a girl?”

Vegeta hesitated, seeming to realize his mistake. “That’s… That’s not what I-”

Bulma pushed up and got out of bed, ignoring the aches and pains of her body. “I’m getting ready for school,” she announced willfully, and started to look through her closet for an outfit that she could slip on without too much hassle.

Vegeta sat up in her bed, sighing, watching her move about. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look happy about her getting ready to go. Bulma ignored his stare and took her clothes into the bathroom to shower and change. It took longer than usual with her injuries, and by the time she came out, Vegeta has left her room. She found him downstairs in the kitchen serving up cereal for two. He looked clean, having used one of the other bathrooms to shower. In fact, he was looking more than clean, he was looking _good_ , wearing a t-shirt that actually fit his physique and pants that weren’t as loose as usual. Bulma had to struggle not to drink in the sight of him. She noticed he looked her over as well. He noted that the white t-shirt she wore only highlighted rather than hid the dark bruises on her skin, but if he had any opinions on her outfit, he kept them to himself. They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, and when the time came, Vegeta took both of their bags over his shoulder and lead them out the door.

When the stepped onto the street, Vegeta took her hand, his fingers warm as they wrapped around hers. Bulma’s heart fluttered. It wasn’t the first time Vegeta had taken her hand, but before he’d only done so out of necessity, to drag her off somewhere or ease her fears. Now, it seemed to mean something else. He was holding her hand because he could, because she was his.

 _You’re mine_ , he’d told her. Bulma blushed and looked down as they walked to school. “You know,” she said, breaking the silence. “I never thanked you for saving me.”

He glanced at her, then away. “When?”

“When I fell, dummy. Chi-Chi and Goku told me what happened, that you risked your life to climb down to me and didn’t leave my side until help arrived.”

He scowled. “Well… someone had to get your sorry ass. You’re lucky not to be dead.” His hand squeezed a little tighter about hers as if worried she would still up and die on him.

Bulma squeezed it back. “Mmm. And perhaps it was my imagination, but… I think I remember you talking to me,” she said, hazy memories of Vegeta pleading with her not to die floating in her mind like a half-forgotten dream. She looked at him and he was scowling hard, his cheeks reddening, avoiding her gaze. Bulma smiled gently, her suspicions confirmed, and she nudged his side. “It helped.”

“Tch.”

“Thanks, Vegeta.”

He looked away helplessly, not knowing how to handle her gratitude. “Cut that out. You’re distracting me.”

“From what? _Walking_?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize it took all your brain capacity to focus on one task at a time,” she said wryly, enjoying her chance to be teasing him.

He looked over at her, irritated at first, but then his expression changed. He gave her a wicked smirk, and Bulma knew she was in trouble. “Just wait until I use my single-minded focus on _you_ , then we’ll see if you’re complaining.”

Bulma nearly tripped over her own feet, and Vegeta laughed cruelly as she turned bright pink. “You’re such a prick.”

He suddenly stopped walking and pulled her in hard. Before she could yell at him for the abrupt stop, Vegeta grabbed her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It was hard and hot, his tongue rubbing sensually over hers.

Bulma trembled against him, feeling her knees go weak. 

Just as suddenly as it started, he broke the kiss. He took her hand and continued the walk to school. Bulma struggled to follow after him, her mind fritzing like a wet circuit board. _Damn him_ , she thought, knowing he’d successfully shut her up and also tipped the balance of power back to his favor. She would have fumed if she was capable of thinking beyond how great of a kisser he was.

When they approached their school, she expected Vegeta to let her hand go and shove her bag into her stomach, but he didn’t. He strutted through the school entrance with her hand in hand, as cool as you please. Bulma could feel the stares of other students, not only because she and Vegeta held hands, but also for all the bruises she wore. Whispers followed them and Bulma figured they’d be the talk of the school by lunch time. 

She wasn’t wrong. When the lunch bell rang, the whole school was whispering and staring at them. Bulma grabbed a tray of food, Vegeta at her side, and they sat down with the MMA crew. Bulma felt herself getting red as even her friends stared at her, though they tried to hide it behind congratulations for her recovery and hugs. Bulma was glad to see Chiaotzu was there, looking well, his run in with bad berries leaving him none the worse for wear. Bulma could see everyone was dying to know about her and Vegeta, but with his surly presence right at their table, no one dared to ask.

No one except Chi-Chi. “My, Bulma, that’s a _lovely_ ring,” Chi-Chi remarked mischievously. “Is it new?”

Bulma threw Chi-Chi a glare, but her friend just smiled back at her wickedly.

“I gave it to her,” Vegeta said nonchalantly.

Everyone fell into a stunned silence, even Chi-Chi, not having expected Vegeta to be so blatant. Bulma blushed harder and ducked her head, playing with her food.

Chi-Chi quickly recovered and beamed at Vegeta. “Oh, it’s _beautiful_ , Vegeta. You have good taste. I should send Goku to you for tips on buying gifts for _his_ girlfriend.”

“ _Chi-Chi_ ,” Bulma hissed and she tried to kick her under the table, unamused by Chi-Chi’s unsubtle inference that Bulma was Vegeta’s girlfriend. Even Bulma wasn’t sure she was ready to label their relationship in such a way, it was far too new and untested. _You’re mine_ he’d said. That was more than enough for her.

“No,” Vegeta replied bluntly, putting an end to that conversation.

“Well, you’ll have to teach us how to boulder!” Goku declared, slapping Vegeta on the shoulder. “The way you handled that cliff face to reach Bulma was incredible!”

The other guys chipped in with words of praise for Vegeta’s heroism. Even Yamcha kept quiet, not denying the amazing feat Vegeta had done to save Bulma. Yamcha looked guilty, remorseful for the trouble he’d tried to stir up at the camp. 

Vegeta was surprised the others were suddenly talking to him so much. Until recently, the group had only been tolerating his presence, but now they were accepting him as one of their own. Bulma felt a smile form on her face, her chest tightening in affection for her friends and for Vegeta. It would be nice for him to have friends outside of her, and it would only go to help her plan in showing Vegeta the good the world could offer. 

The boys continued to hound Vegeta for rock climbing tips until he was finally forced to promise that he’d go bouldering with them one day. At the end of lunch Vegeta gave Bulma his dessert and even cleared her tray. 

After classes they had practice. Bulma was worried what Coach Piccolo was going to say about her running off and falling down a cliff, but he came over to her and personally apologized, asking after her welfare and hoped her parents hadn’t been too alarmed by her accident.

“She’s fine, and the Briefs are glad she’s okay,” Vegeta answered for her. When the coach gave Vegeta a surprised look, Bulma just smiled, shrugged, and agreed with him. She apologized for causing everyone such a fright. Piccolo accepted, perhaps just glad he wasn’t getting sued, and that was the end of the whole camping debacle.

Training ensued. They started with warm up exercises, and Bulma finally allowed herself to watch Vegeta without any pretenses of studying or texting. The group was doing push ups, all of them in excellent form, but Vegeta was exceptional, his body perfectly straight and his arms easily pushing himself up and down with powerful, liquid ease. He glanced up and saw she was staring. Bulma smiled, not looking away, and neither did he. Keeping her eye contact, Vegeta grinned and switched over to his right hand, his left resting at his back as he continued to push himself up and down, over and over on one arm, showing off for her. Bulma laughed and felt herself growing flushed, an animalistic part of her greatly impressed at his display of strength.

“Stop showing off, Saiyan,” Piccolo snapped. Vegeta rolled his eyes and dropped his left arm, falling back into two-handed rhythm with everyone else. Shortly after the coach blew his whistle and everyone switched to sit ups. Vegeta positioned himself to look at her each time he sat up, his body starting to sheen with sweat, his mouth panting for air, his dark eyes only on her as he levered up each time. Despite the distance and the others in the gym, the whole scene felt intoxicating, intimate, and Bulma was grateful when Piccolo called for laps and Vegeta had to break their gaze because she wasn’t sure she could take any more eye-fucking for one day.

After practice Vegeta walked her home, holding her hand and her bag. He’d been so kind to her all day, clearly worried about her injuries. He walked her all the way up to her bedroom but then stopped, setting her bag by the door. “I’m going to train,” he said. Bulma pouted but nodded. Protesting would only cause an argument, and now she knew how important it was for him to get stronger. Vegeta left for the gym and Bulma decided to make a big dinner for them both. She cooked and served the food, setting a plate for Vegeta, and waited. After her long day, and still feeling the effects of her fall, Bulma soon fell asleep at the kitchen counter waiting for Vegeta to finish.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

“This is becoming a habit,” he grumbled as he scooped her up. 

Bulma clung sleepily to Vegeta as he carried her upstairs. “Nn… I made dinner,” she said, only half awake.

“I already ate it.”

“You did? How was it?”

“Cold.”

“Oh…”

Bulma drifted on the edge of sleep as Vegeta carried her to bed. She smiled happily when she felt him climb in with her, spooning her, putting his hand on her belly. He settled in, but Bulma didn’t succumb to sleep yet. “No kiss?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” she whined, pressing herself back against him, wriggling her hips against his.

Vegeta grabbed her hip, stilling her. “Don’t start that,” he growled at her warningly.

Bulma pouted. “Spoil sport.”

He huffed. Bulma jumped when she felt teeth gently bite her neck, his fingers curling on her hip. She shuddered in pleasure. His mouth moved to her ear. “You need to rest. I need you in top shape for what I’ve got in store for you, Briefs. Get your sleep now while you can.”

Bulma bit back a moan and let out a pent up sigh when Vegeta moved away and settled in to sleep. If Vegeta was going to keep this up, the next few days of her recovery were going to be the worst torture of her life.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 ... Fanart by [VegetaPsycho](https://twitter.com/VEGETApsycho/status/780550868328329216)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/VegetaPsycho_Mine_chap18_zpsunjorha8.jpg.html)

 

 _ **AN** : _ _I recently wrote a piece of Vegebul for Stupidoomdoodle’s AU, called ‘Girl Next Door’. Check it out if you like her comics._

 _Hmmm.. I felt like I had more to say, but words elude me. As always, I’ll try to have the next chapter up in 3-4 days time! Oh, hmm, is that_ lemon _I smell…?_


	19. 19 - Hard Up

_This is the UNCENSORED version, for a more vanilla version, please go to FFnet._

 

 **Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.19 - Hard Up**

 

As Bulma predicted, the following few days were torturous. Now that Vegeta had made the decision to disregard his father’s advice, he was a lot more obvious about his desires - he would stare at her for a long time with hard, predatory eyes and a knowing smirk that had her heart racing, and if she tried to guess what he was thinking about it only made her blush. He liked to surprise her, sneaking up on her like a cat toying with a mouse and breathe on the back of her neck, his large, warm hands wrapping around her waist, trapping her, making her shiver in delight. 

“How do you feel?” he’d purr against her nape.

“Fine, _more_ than fine,” she’d insist, leaning into him, but he’d nuzzle a bruise and despite her best efforts to ignore the pain, he could feel her flinch and he’d pull away; no amount of whining or foot stomping on her part would convince him to continue. The doctor had said she wasn’t to be over exerted, and Vegeta was abiding by that law. Bulma was starting to loath that doctor and his damned advice with a growing passion. 

Bulma also noticed people at school were acting differently towards her, specifically the male students. From her peripheral vision she saw that she was getting a lot more attention than usual, but when she glanced their way the boys would flee as if Hell itself would open up its yawning mouth and swallow them up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why they ran - her and Vegeta were the hot new couple everyone talked about, and no one wanted to piss off Vegeta, the scariest guy in school, by being mistakenly seen as flirting with his girl. She was especially pleased when she saw the two guys who had harassed her at the sports shed nearly trip over themselves to get out of her way.

But what didn’t please her was seeing what their new found fame was doing for Vegeta. Whether he was being seen as more approachable now that he had a ‘girlfriend’, or because he was dressing nicer, Vegeta was garnering far more female attention than both he and Bulma would have liked. Bulma would have been jealous if not for the amusing way Vegeta got so worked up by the unwanted attention, snarling and snapping in irritation until she laughed and then he’d shout at her or sulk petulantly. 

She found him again in just such a predicament as she came down the school hallway to meet him after class. He was waiting for her in his usual place, his brows pulled down into a familiar annoyed look as some nameless girl fawned over him in an attempt to flirt. Bulma heard him as she got nearer to them.

“Beat it, you’re in my space,” he snapped, being as nice as he could be when aggravated. But the clueless girl just tittered as if he’d told a joke, not taking his threat seriously. Vegeta started to sneer in irritation when he caught her movement and looked up, seeing Bulma approach. The relieved look that washed over his face made her smile, and she felt compelled to deepen the swing in her hips as she reached him.

“ _Vegeta_ ,” she greeted, emphasizing the familiarity of his name, wrapping her arms around Vegeta’s neck and kissing him as if the other girl right in front of them were of no consequence.

Vegeta’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her brashness, but a heartbeat later he caught on and wrapped his arms around her and turned her about, crushing Bulma against the wall to return the kiss. Bulma heard the other girl make a disgusted sound and stomp away on her heels.

“Later, bitch,” Bulma whispered after her, gloating, curling her fingers about Vegeta possessively.

Vegeta chuckled, still nibbling at her lips. “You’re devious,” he growled, his eyes sparking with dark amusement, liking Bulma’s fiendish edge. 

Bulma tried to pull Vegeta in for more kissing, but he resisted, his eyes stopping her. “Not here,” he said, although his body seemed to have other ideas, still pressing into her intimately, his hands crushing her against the wall. “Not yet, not until you’re healed.”

Bulma wanted to throw a fit in frustration. What good was it to belong to Vegeta when she couldn’t even have him? He was everywhere, morning, day and night, looking powerful, sinful, teasing her with what she still couldn’t have, still unreachable. She was growing increasingly agitated, the slightest look, kiss or touch from him would send ripples of anticipation through her, but without any relief, she was starting to lose her mind and her patience. 

She had to break him, one way or another, because she was on the verge of breaking herself, she’d already waited weeks for him, she was damned if she was going to wait a few more days for some stupid bruises to heal. Forming an idea, Bulma took a change of clothes with her to school the following day. Before the lunch bell rang, she ducked out of class early and hurried to change into a tight white crop top that showed off her midriff, and a short skirt that showed off her legs. She powered her skin to try and make her bruises appear more faded, and spritzed on some perfume to mask the scent of the powder. 

She waited for Vegeta at his locker, the cold metal making her skin prickle and her nipples tighten under her thin white shirt. She arched her back and bit her lip suggestively. When Vegeta strolled over he barely looked at her, coming to stand right in front of her as if she weren’t block his way. He reached above her head to get to his locker, stretching his perfect body in front of her as he put his books away. He then slammed the locker shut, keeping his arms braced above her head, his powerful body arched over hers. He smirked down at her; he knew what she was trying to do, and he wasn’t going to play her game. Bulma blushed and coyly reached out to play with his belt. “Hey~.”

Vegeta leaned in and nuzzled her temple. “You’re wearing perfume,” he commented.

Bulma nodded, toying with his buckle.

Vegeta continued to nuzzle her. “I don’t like perfume.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a flicker of disappointment.

He smirked against her. “I prefer the natural way you smell. It’s easier to tell when you’re hard up for it.”

Bulma blushed bright red as Vegeta pulled away, giving her a cocky smile. He turned and walked off, leaving her aching and cursing him and herself for her stupid plan. When she got home she threw out all her perfume and went to take a very cold shower, trying not to think of Vegeta scenting her like some animal in heat.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

When the weekend rolled around, she’d run out of patience and was sick of cold showers. Bulma was past playing fair. “Let’s go see a movie,” she suggested.

“No.”

“ _Vegeta_ , you promised you’d do fun things with me.”

“No, you asked me to promise. I never agreed.”

“Fine, I’ll go by myself!” Bulma shouted and stomped off, leaving behind a rather bewildered Vegeta. Their argument had been unusually brief. Bulma was done with words, she was all about action.

Twenty minutes later she sashayed into the gym where Vegeta was training. He’d already worked up a sweat and was currently running on a treadmill in only a pair of shorts, the rest of his lean, muscular body on full display, glistening and moving with the elegant, athletic ease of a large cat. Bulma let her eyes wander over him appreciatively before she made an announcement. “I called a cab, it’ll be here in fifteen minutes if you change your mind.”

“Why would I change my-” Vegeta stopped short when he looked up to see Bulma leaning against the table by the vending machine. She was wearing the shortest skirt she owned and a top so thin it was see-through. She’d shaved, moisturized, primped, put on make up and jewelry, the whole works. She looked _fantastic_ , and she knew it.

And she was going to go outside, all by her lonesome, in an outfit that screamed ‘fuck me’. 

Vegeta was struggling to take in the sight of her and the implications of Bulma wandering around town looking as she did without a guardian. He almost tripped on the treadmill.

She looked up at him from under half lidded eyes. “I’d really like it if you came,” she purred, her choice of words _very_ intentional.

Vegeta growled and stopped the machine, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow as he abandoned his work out. He didn’t say a word to her as he stomped by to use the showers. Bulma smiled in satisfaction. 

Fifteen minutes later, a cleaned, dressed and surly Vegeta got into the taxi with her, and they headed towards the local cinema. He still didn’t speak to her in the car ride over.

“What movie do you want to see?” Bulma asked after they arrived, slipping her hands around his arm, staring up at the film titles.

“You don’t even know?” he asked, incredulous, but he wasn’t looking at her, too busy glaring at anyone who came within 15 feet of them, daring anyone to look at Bulma for too long and see what it cost them.

Bulma stepped around him to catch his eye and smiled. “I just wanted to see something with you. Why don’t you pick?”

He looked down at her from the corner of his eye, his entire body radiating displeasure. “Fine, whatever. That one,” he said, pointing at a poster. Bulma nodded and let his arm go to get two tickets. Vegeta didn’t let her go far alone, sidling right up behind her in the line, her silent, sullen bodyguard. When they had their tickets, Vegeta grabbed her wrist and pulled her directly towards their theater room.

“What about popcorn and-?” she started to protest.

“No,” he cut her off flatly, and that was that. He pulled her all the way up to the back of the cinema, then proceeded to glare at anyone who tried to sit anywhere close to them. Luckily, not too many people appeared interested in the film, so by the time the previews started they had the back rows to themselves, with only a few other guests scattered about the front of the theater. Vegeta was sitting tensely next to her, still looking upset. Bulma had hoped he might have settled down by now; it wouldn’t be much of a date if he was going to grump the whole way through it.

His arm was leaning on the arm rest between them, so Bulma tried putting her hand over his. She felt him tense under her touch, and it made her mouth turn down, hurt and agitated that he was being such a dick about her interrupting his workout. “You know, you could _try_ to enjoy yourself,” she whispered to him, pulling her hand back.

“I’m _thinking_ ,” he replied testily, glaring at the screen in a way that told Bulma he wasn’t paying the preview any attention.

“What of?” she asked.

“A suitable way to punish you.”

Bulma’s eyes went round as she looked at him, feeling her heart flutter nervously. “Wh-what?”

Vegeta turned and fixed her with a hard stare, his mouth set in a hard line. “ _Despite_ what the doctor said about taking it easy, and despite what _I’ve_ told you about being patient, you’ve still been running around like a bitch in heat all week. And now you’re trying to manipulate me by wearing _that_ , and you don’t expect me to be pissed?”

Bulma pouted and looked away. Vegeta was taking all the fun out of her scheme and making her feel childish for it. “I was just trying to be…”

“What?” he snapped.

She looked away, humiliated. “Sexy.”

“Tch. _Idiot_.”

His insult stung. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it!” Bulma snapped fiercely, and a few heads in the cinema turned at her raised voice. Bulma gave them a confrontational ‘what-of-it’ look and hand gesture, and they looked away. Bulma glanced down at her lap, embarrassed at herself and furious at Vegeta, her confidence shattered.

She heard him sigh. “Bulma.”

“What?” she snapped morosely.

“You’re an _idiot_ because you don’t have to do all _this_ to look appealing to me. Do you honestly think there’s not a day goes by I don’t think about fucking you?”

“Oh wow, _charming_ ,” she replied caustically, too upset to take his vulgar words as anything but an offence.

He sighed, pressing a hand to his brow as if in pain. “Jesus, I can’t win with you.”

They sat in agitated silence as the movie started. Bulma didn’t know what to think, she hated this stalemate with Vegeta. She didn’t want to be mad at him, and she definitely didn’t want him to be mad at her, but she had no idea how to make amends, especially in the silence of the movie. After a few minutes, Bulma felt her purse buzz. She pulled it out and saw that the message was from him.

 _I didn’t mean it like that. I just can’t be eloquent right now when you’re sitting in front of me in that outfit_.

Bulma looked at Vegeta who had his phone in his lap. He was typing another message, and she saw it pop up on her screen a moment later.

 _You look beautiful._ Bulma pursed her lips, feeling herself soften at the compliment. Another message soon followed. _It’s driving me -insane-_. _How the fuck am I supposed to take your doctor’s advice when you’re wearing that?_

She caved and a ghost of a smile curled her lips. The thought of driving Vegeta insane because of her beauty was pretty damn flattering, and she had to admit, she was a sucker for flattery. Bulma typed a reply. 

_I never said you should. Why do you think I’ve been acting like ‘a bitch in heat’, huh? [Winky face]_

His reply came quickly. _…I don’t want to hurt you._

His message struck a chord. Bulma hadn’t really considered it that way before, that he was obeying the doctor’s rules because he was worried he’d cause her pain if he tried anything too soon. Man, she was an idiot.

 _You won’t hurt me_ , she reassured him with a little love heart emoji.

 _Don’t be so sure. I can’t even_ look _at you right now without wanting to shove you over something and ravish you into next week, and trust me, it wouldn’t be gentle._

Bulma’s heart started beating harder, his words sending a thrill of excitement through her. She cast him a subtle sidelong look, his profile highlighted by the glow of the movie. He was painfully handsome, hard lines and swelling muscles and underneath it all, a heat, a burning fire of strength and pride and right now, hunger, a hunger for _her_. His eyes flicked up and caught her peeking. His mouth hooked up in the hint of a smile.

Bulma looked back at her phone, blushing hard. _In that case, it’s probably a good thing you don’t know what I’m wearing underneath this outfit. [Mischievous smiley face]_  

After reading her message, she felt him glance at her again, but she pretended not to notice. _Oh?_ He texted back. 

Bulma smirked as she sent her reply. _Absolutely nothing_. She didn’t add any emojis, she didn’t feel like she needed to.

Vegeta checked his phone and choked audibly when he read her message. It took him a minute to compose himself before he typed back, _I don’t believe you_.

Bulma smirked. _[Devil face] Wanna bet?_

Vegeta flipped up the armrest between them and was on her in the next instant, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle her surprised outcry. Her hands instinctively went to his chest, her fingers curling in his shirt, and she leaned up into the burning heat of his body that sheltered her against the cool air-conditioned air of the theater. He leaned into her, crushing her into the seat and he pressed his brow against hers, staring at her as she lay helpless beneath him, the wicked fire in his eyes illuminated by the blue gleam of the movie screen. 

“You enjoy playing dangerously, don’t you?” he purred, his voice deep and low, vibrating against her, barely audible against the movie’s audio, but fully felt. It made her shiver in delight, made her want to rub herself against him, basking in the sound of his animalistic tone. She couldn’t reply, his hand smothering her, so she did the next best thing. She licked his palm.

Vegeta’s lips peeled back in a sneer, revealing his sharp incisors. He pressed himself harder against her in retaliation, the weight of him pinning her, and it sparked her lust, making her wish they were somewhere where clothing wasn’t a necessity so she could feel every inch of him against her. Vegeta slid his face down to nuzzle her face, his lips tickling over her ear. “I was going to let it go, but I think after that, you still deserve your punishment.”

Bulma stiffened, her eyes darting to his uncertainly. He looked at her, grinning, before dipping his head to nuzzle her throat, his tongue darting out to taste her pulse which had skyrocketed. Suddenly he tightened his hold on her and his mouth latched about her tender neck. He sucked hard, almost painfully. Bulma squealed and squirmed helplessly beneath him, trying to shove him off as he bit into her, her cries muffled by his hand. She writhed pitifully, but it felt as though her energy were being sapped, her outrage at his mauling her was quickly, rapidly turning to something darker and more needy. He suckled her throat, and she found herself mewling pitifully under his domineering gesture, panting as she wished he’d do more, take more, bite and suck his way all over her.

Feeling her give in beneath him, Vegeta allowed his hand to slip from her mouth and trail down until he found her bare knee. He let his fingers wander up, pressing into her soft thigh before trailing up, moving higher and higher until he slipped his hand under her skirt. Bulma gasped and arched against him as Vegeta learned the truth of her text message.

“You little _minx_ ,” he growled against her tender flesh as his fingers brushed against her, panty-less, and they both learned how wet she was. She moaned, bucking against his hand, her whole body on fire, trembling with days, _weeks_ of pent up lust bursting to be satiated. Ever since he’d kissed her that first time on her couch months ago, and perhaps even before that, she’d wanted him, she’d wanted his strong body over hers and his hands touching her as they were now. How many times had she dreamed about this, daydreamed about it, guiltily found her mind wandering when she was in the shower, or half asleep in bed at night with her hand wandering down between her thighs. And now, finally, at last, it was a reality, and it wasn’t her hand between her legs now.

When he finally pulled away from her throat with a wet smacking sound she had completely succumbed to him, the hands she had once tried to shove him away with were now curled around him, holding him close, begging for more. She realized she was trembling when he leaned back, giving her his wickedest smile yet. “Don’t stop,” she begged, fearing he was pulling back to once again call an end to things.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly. “We don’t need an audience. You have to keep quiet, or I will stop.” He punctuated his statement by pushing a finger inside her.

 Bulma sucked in a sobbing breath as she felt it slip in, long and thick. Her hands tugged at his shirt, silently pleading for him to come closer, for more, for him. He leaned in, grabbing the back of her neck with his other hand and he hungrily kissed her mouth, hushing her moans with his tongue. She was overcome, losing herself between his hot kisses and his intimate petting. He started pushing in and out of her with long, slow strokes. She had to break their kiss to bury her face in his shoulder, trying to muffle her helpless cries as he undid her from the inside out, leaving her quivering, her insides loosening, desperate for more. He nuzzled her ear, purring with encouragement. “Just think, at any minute one of these people could look over and see me finger-fucking you.”

Bulma whimpered pitifully and clung to Vegeta, trying to use him both as a shield and a means to reach her ending. She was trembling, falling to pieces, losing herself to him. One finger soon became two as Vegeta added another and wickedly stretched her open.

“O-oh _god_ ,” she keened, rocking her hips against his hand.

Vegeta chuckled cruelly in her ear. “You’ve got a lot more to go before you can handle all of me.”

“Vegeta, _please_ ,” she begged, gasping against his ear, riding his hand as she felt her pleasure build greater and greater.

He made a sound like a growl, his grip tightening on her. “Say my name again,” he said, his voice dark and possessive.

“ _Vegeta_ ,” she whispered, happy to oblige his request, his name a prayer that easily fell from her lips, the word a desperate plea for release. His fingers started moving faster, and he slid his hand down to grab her hip, tilting her up and spreading her open. Bulma blushed as he easily manhandled her, but she was far too gone in pleasure to care if anyone saw. His fingers rubbed inside her deeply and the most incredible pressure was building insider her, burning, consuming, swelling. She could feel the end rushing towards her, and she clung to him, sobbing his name over and over along with mindless, whispered pleas.

When he brought his slicked thumb up to tease her clit it undid her; she arched up, clenching about him as she came, shattering in ecstasy. He kissed her hard, drinking up her whimpered cries, letting her ride out her wave of pleasure with his fingers still pushed inside of her, eeking out the last of her pleasure.

She shuddered, trembling, completely overwrought as she slowly, ever so slowly came down from her high. Vegeta kissed her cheek as she struggled to catch her breath, her hands still tangled up in his clothing. She couldn’t remember ever having come so intensely before. As her pleasure washed away, she started to feel embarrassment creep up, remembering where they were and what they’d just done in a public venue no less. Vegeta’s fingers were still inside of her, and she reached down to touch his wrist, silently telling him to pull out. He obliged, pulling out of her wet center and she trembled as he left, leaving her feeling empty. He wiped his hand on her thigh. She shot him an irritated look. He smirked at her.

“Feeling better?” he asked playfully. Bulma was flushed and she glanced around, worried they had attracted attention but no one was staring, the loud action movie on the screen having masked any sounds she might have let slip. 

Bulma gently pushed him off her and tried to shimmy her skirt down over her thighs. She needed to clean up. She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she whispered. Before she could stand, Vegeta grabbed her wrist, and she looked at him. His eyes searched hers.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice too quiet to be sure of his tone.

Bulma smiled softly and leaned in, kissing his lips. He kissed her back hesitantly, his eyes still looking at her, searching for an answer. “No, quite the opposite,” she said against his mouth.

He huffed but seemed satisfied, and let her wrist go. Bulma left without another word, sneaking out of the theater on legs that were still a little weak, her cheeks still feeling hot as she played over in her mind what had just happened. Vegeta had just gotten her off in the back of a movie theater. It hadn’t been what she had in mind when she’d invited him out, but she supposed she couldn’t argue the results.

Not until she got to the bathroom that was. After using the bathroom facilities, Bulma looked at herself in the mirror and reeled back in horror when she saw what he’d done to her throat. Vegeta had given her the biggest hickey of her life, her ‘punishment’, and it was getting worse by the second, turing a dark purply-red on her neck, with her helpless to conceal it in any way, and after her other bruises had already mostly healed too. “I’m going to _murder_ him,” she grumbled to her reflection, her pale fingers trailing over the dark mark.

Irritated, Bulma stomped out of the bathroom to find Vegeta waiting for her, leaning against the opposite wall, his arms folded casually in front of his chest. He smirked at her as she came out, his eyes instantly going to her throat, admiring his handiwork, his eyes dancing with possessive amusement.

“What are you doing here?” she asked hotly.

“That movie blew. It couldn’t seem to hold my attention. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Where?” she asked, pointing at her throat accusingly. “I can’t go out with _this_ , you jerk!”

Vegeta pushed off the wall and closed the gap between them. He reached out, taking her neck in his hand and running his thumb over her hickey; it was an incredibly possessive gesture, but what was worse was how easily she acquiesced to it, making her blush, as annoyed with herself as she was with him. “Looks good to me,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “You seemed fine showing off your other bruises, what’s one more?”

“This is very obviously not just a ‘bruise’,” Bulma grouched.

Vegeta smirked, knowing she was right and showing very little shame about it. “Well, if you’re going to be prancing about in this outfit, then everyone should know you’ve already been claimed.”

Bulma raised her brows. “That’s so primitive. I’m not something to be _owned,_ Vegeta.”

Vegeta stepped in even closer, tugging her in against him by the back of her neck. She could feel the hard press of his body against hers, her own already reacting to the closeness of him. It was like he emitted some drug over her that she couldn’t help responding to, wanting to melt against him like butter.

“I know,” he said, whispering against her lips. “But others don’t. And I’d rather not have to kill a man for sniffing around you.” Bulma pursed her lips, struggling to maintain her scowl. Vegeta smirked, still stroking the hickey on her throat. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when I was ‘claiming’ you.”

Bulma went red and tried to smack him in the shoulder, indignant, but Vegeta grabbed her hand and instead placed it gently on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Bulma resisted for barely a second before she gave in, winding her hands around his neck and kissing him back. It felt so right, so perfect to have him kissing her, holding her. How had they managed to go for so long without doing so?

“You’d kill a man just for looking at me?” she murmured against his mouth, a little flattered at his overprotectiveness, something dark and primitive stirring in her belly. Vegeta seemed to bring out her more predatory instincts. 

“I’d kill a man just for a _chance_ to look at you,” he growled back, squeezing her tighter against him.

Bulma laughed softly, breathlessly. “I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want to have to wait 25 to life for you to get out of prison.”

Vegeta scoffed. “Like I’d get caught.”

“Oh? Good at murdering people are we?”

“I’m good at a great many things. Especially if it involves my _hands_ ,” he smirked at her knowingly.

Bulma had no retort to that, so she closed her eyes and kissed him. They made out for a while until they started getting too many stares from people walking by to use the movie theater’s bathrooms.

“C’mon,” Vegeta said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. Bulma followed, trying to remember how her legs worked as she stumbled after him. They exited the theater complex and a fresh breeze met them as they stepped into the daylight.

They took a few steps forward when Vegeta suddenly came to a halt. He stopped so abruptly that Bulma walked right into his shoulder. She looked up at him, wondering what the hold up was, but then she saw his expression; it was dark, his body tense, his eyes focused on something up ahead. Bulma turned to see what was causing Vegeta so much concern.

She saw it instantly. A black convertible with tinted windows was parked by the cinema entrance, the top folded down, a tall, handsome young man leaning against the car with a cocky smirk. His hair was long, earrings hanging from his lobes, his face painfully familiar. It was Zarbon, Vegeta’s relative, the one Vegeta had been staying with and who she’d been warned to stay away from and who, apparently, had nearly tried to kill her with his vehicle. The realization turned her blood cold.

Zarbon spotted them and his grin widened. He pushed off the car and came towards them.

“If I tell you to run, you do it and don’t look back,” Vegeta said to her urgently in a low voice. Bulma’s eyes widened and she looked at Vegeta, scared. She started to open her mouth to protest, but he gave her a dark look that stopped her. “I mean it, Bulma. If things get ugly, I can’t be worrying about you getting caught in the crossfire. You fucking _run_ , do you understand?”

She didn’t, but she’d never seen Vegeta so agitated before, so she nodded to appease him. Bulma felt Vegeta’s hand clench around hers. He gently pushed her behind him, positioning himself between her and Zarbon. 

Zarbon noticed the protective gesture and flashed them a wolfish smile, amused. “Vegeta never was one for sharing,” Zarbon purred in way of a greeting as he stopped a few paces in front of them, his eyes on Bulma. He dragged his gaze over her, drinking in every delicious inch of her until she shuddered in revolution. Bulma felt utterly violated. She glared at him and stepped closer behind Vegeta’s back for shelter.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Vegeta snapped at him, getting straight to the point.

Zarbon’s eyes left Bulma and he smirked at Vegeta. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?” Vegeta said nothing, so Zarbon shrugged and continued. “Have you spoken to your coach recently?”

Vegeta scowled, crossing his arms. “What’s it to you?”

Zarbon put a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Why, Vegeta. I’m appalled. We used to be so _close_.” Zarbon looked back at Bulma. “He’s practically my baby brother,” he said, before looking back at Vegeta. “Well, tournament season is approaching, as you should know, _Little Prince_ , and our schools are going to have a practice session this Friday. Won’t that be fun?” he asked, his smile cruel, his eyes dancing.

Vegeta didn’t say anything, but Bulma saw his left hand was clenched so tightly it shook. Unable to stay silent for long, Bulma blurted out, “Vegeta is the best fighter at our school. I’ve seen him train.”

Zarbon laughed, loudly. Bulma flushed, annoyed at his response. Vegeta didn’t react, letting Zarbon’s laughter wash over him. 

“Oh no!” the tall boy said, tears of mirth still in his eyes. “And here I thought I might be presented with a challenge, but if Vegeta is the best your school has, I’ll barely be in for a warm-up.”

Bulma scowled at him. “You’re awfully rude and presumptuous.”

“ _Bulma_.” Vegeta’s tone was soft but chiding. She shut her mouth and looked away, though she had a few more choice words she’d have liked to have used.

Zarbon continued to smirk at them, his eyes watching their interactions with great interest. “Well, well, Vegeta, it seems you’ve trained her well, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone dripping with insinuations. “I must say I’m surprised, she seems way out of your league if you ask me, and I didn’t take you for the type to be so easily domesticated, little Prince. But I guess money changes even the best of us.”

Vegeta’s jaw clenched tighter with each insult until he’d had enough. “Shut it, Zarbon. Do you want something, or are you just here for your own sick amusement?”

Zarbon laughed merrily. “Why not both? As it happens, I’ve a message from Frieza.” Bulma wouldn’t have believed it unless she saw it with her own eyes; Vegeta actually paled. Zarbon grinned, seeing he had Vegeta’s complete attention. “Frieza says not to forget where your loyalties lie.” Zarbon’s eyes flicked back to Bulma, eating her up with his gaze. “It would be a shame to have to remind you of that.” Bulma felt a cold chill run down her spine. She twisted her fingers in Vegeta’s shirt, clinging to him fearfully. She couldn’t help feeling that Zarbon was using her to threaten Vegeta in some way.

“And why would Frieza be sending _you_ as a messenger boy?” Vegeta sneered back. He grabbed Bulma’s hand and pulled her roughly after him, walking them away. Bulma looked over her shoulder as they left. Zarbon was still standing there watching them, a smirk on his face. He gave Bulma a sly wink, and Bulma felt a sick fear grip her. She whipped her head around and hurried to keep pace with Vegeta.

“What was that about?” she asked him when they were out of earshot, unable to keep a tremor of fear from her voice.

“Later,” he snapped at her. They walked all the way home, Bulma not daring to suggest getting a ride, not wanting to irk Vegeta more than he already was. He was tense, his face grim, and he didn’t say a single word to her the rest of the way home, lost to his own troubled thoughts.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_**AN** : For those who read the smutty version, I’d love any con-crit you might have, as it’s been a loooong time since I’ve written lemon. Feel free to leave a review or PM me if you have any suggestions so I can keep doing what I’m doing if it’s working for ya, or change/improve for next time ;)_

_I’m so sorry for my followers about the technical issues with posting the last chapter, it got deleted or magicked away somewhere not long after I first posted it, so I had to resubmit it as soon as I saw the issue. I apologize if you went looking for the chapter and it just wasn’t there, believe me it wasn’t intentional. I’ve no idea what happened, but I’m looking suspiciously at FFnet’s janky servers. Hopefully it was a one time fluke D:_

_For the Stupidoomdoodle’s/Girl Next Door  fans, I’ve put up another chapter on that story too, so check it out if you haven’t already. I may add to it here ’n’ there if I feel inspired/have the time._

_I sleep now *collapses in exhaustion*_


	20. 20 - Revelations

_This is the UNCENSORED version, please go to FFnet for the censored version if you don’t like smut or are underage and actually obey those kinds of rules lol._

 

 **Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.20 - Revelations**

 

Vegeta still wasn’t speaking to her when they got home. He slammed the door behind them a little too loudly, clearly still riled from his interaction with Zarbon. He let her hand go and grabbed his cell phone, pulling up a number and dialed, bringing the phone to his ear as he headed upstairs. Bulma followed silently after him.

Bulma heard Vegeta inquire after Lieutenant General Saiyan. A few minutes later he acknowledged someone on the line, listening to what they had to say. The conversation was brief, terse. By the time they reached Vegeta’s room, the call was already over.

“Is everything okay?” Bulma asked uncertainly.

Vegeta sighed as he put his phone away, running a hand through his hair, looking less agitated. “Yeah. Just checking on my father.”

“Is he okay?” she asked before she could stop herself from prying.

Vegeta glanced at her from the corner of his eye before he entered his room. He left his door open and Bulma took that as an invitation to follow. Vegeta sat down on his bed and then flopped back, laying on his back. He threw an arm over his eyes as if to block out all the world along with his vision. “Yeah. He’s busy, but fine. I thought… I thought Zarbon might have been threatening me about my old man.”

Bulma felt her heart clutch in fear. “He can do that?”

Vegeta huffed. “ _He_ can’t, but Frieza could.”

“Who is this Frieza?” Bulma asked, gingerly sitting down on the bed next to Vegeta. She was surprised Vegeta was being so open with her. Even as she asked him for more details, she waited for the inevitable backlash to come where he’d snap at her to mind her own business and clam up.

But Vegeta answered her from under his arm. “Frieza runs the Icejin. His father is technically the leader, but Frieza calls most of the shots nowadays.” Vegeta’s hand fisted, trembling with tension. “I’d give anything for the chance to shoot him in his goddamn face.”

Bulma eyed Vegeta laying on his bed, his body tight with anger, and her heart quickened with fear. “That’s a little extreme,” she said softly, the mention of murder frightening her, especially when she could hear in his tone how serious Vegeta was being. 

“Tch. If you knew what they did…”

Bulma hesitated to ask her next question. She tried to gauge Vegeta’s mood. She couldn’t see his face from under his out-flung arm, but his body had relaxed again, his hand now hanging limply. She decided she had to try. “Why don’t you tell me what they did?”

She watched his chest slowly rise and fall, waiting as agonizing seconds ticked by.

“What’s there to tell?” He finally said, his voice flat. “You know most of it, don’t you, or have figured it out. I know you’re not an idiot.”

Bulma swallowed nervously. “Well, I could guess, but I’d rather hear the truth from you.”

Vegeta sighed, sounding agitated, but he answered her. “You know Zarbon. He’s an Icejin. Pretty high up in the food chain actually. That house we were at belongs to the gang, to Frieza’s dad, General Cold, one of many he uses. I was living there under Freiza’s ‘good will’, so they could keep an eye on me and keep my father in line. So you could say I was a hostage of sorts.” He paused, breathing through his nose, steeling himself, then continued. “They beat me. Starved me. If that didn’t get the results they wanted, they’d punish me by punishing my father. They also had me run jobs that you wouldn’t put down on a respectable resume, but their favorite past time was using me as punching bag for ‘training’. I could fight back just enough to be amusing, but not well enough that they couldn’t overpower me. Bastards.”

Bulma listened, speechless. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She only knew about high school, lab experiments and department stores, she knew nothing about home abuse and gang life. They were from two very different worlds. With nothing else to offer, Bulma lay down by Vegeta’s side, placing her hand on his chest to give reassurance. She thought about all the times she’d seen Vegeta beaten, or the times Vegeta had eaten her food as if he’d been starving, because he literally has been, and it was all thanks to the Icejin. Another memory came back to her. “So that paper bag you had, on the roof at school. That wasn’t your lunch you’d brought from home?”

“It was,” Vegeta replied sourly. “If you consider drugs ‘lunch’. Zarbon gave it to me. I still don’t know if he meant it as a sick joke, or if he wanted me to sell them and use the money to buy lunch for myself. Either way I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of doing either. I flushed them down the toilet, and when he found out he nearly drowned me.” 

Bulma was filled with an emotion she couldn’t describe, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to hit something in disgust. “That’s _sick_.”

“You don’t say,” Vegeta agreed wryly. “But lucky for me, this really annoying blue-haired chick started bringing me lunch.”

Bulma’s mouth turned up into a sad smile. She ran her hand over Vegeta’s chest in soothing little circles, comforting herself as much as him with the gesture. “…Your father can’t help you?” she asked, her voice soft, not wanting to ask touchy questions, but she also wanted to learn the extent of his situation, seeing as Vegeta was in the rare mood to indulge her with answers.

Vegeta grunted. “He tries. I know he sent me money while I was at Zarbon’s, but I rarely saw any of it. Not that I can tell my old man that, he’d be too disappointed to find out how little what he does matters. My father’s as much their prisoner as I am, and I know he blames himself for that, for not being able to protect me more. That’s probably why he agreed to let me live here, even knowing it would create a shit storm.”

Bulma stiffened. “It did?” she asked, feeling alarmed.

Vegeta nodded under his arm. “Yeah, they’ve kept my father so busy I’ve barely been able to speak to him, let alone see him. Still, as far as punishments go, it’s pretty mild.”

Bulma stared at Vegeta’s side, processing all he was telling her. She felt a heavy shame weigh down on her; due to her meddling she’d only made things worse for Vegeta and his father. Worse, she’d never even given it much thought that Vegeta hadn’t seen his father since moving into her house, had probably been worried about his father, while she’d only been absorbed with her own selfish problems. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and laden with guilt.

Vegeta heard her tone. He removed his arm from his face and looked down at her. His expression was serious, but not unkind. He looked at her thoughtfully, and something hard and tense about him eased. He turned on his side to face her and wrapped his arm around her tiny waist, pulling her in close. He felt warm and strong, and being held against him was instantly Bulma’s favorite place to be. “Don’t be. I know I was pissed back then, but I was worried about my dad, about you. But moving here has been…” he trailed off, frowning, struggling with the words he wanted to say.

Bulma gave him a lopsided smile. “The best thing that’s ever happened to you?” she asked hopefully, half joking, trying to lighten the mood.

Vegeta raised his hand and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Yeah,” he agreed simply, his expression candid.   

Bulma felt her throat tighten, caught off guard by his warm gesture and honesty. She didn’t know how to respond, but thankfully she didn’t have to. Vegeta leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She eased against him as his warm lips caressed her own, her eyes closing, succumbing to his feather light touch. His kisses were achingly sweet and tender, and each time he moved his mouth against hers she felt herself give in to him just a little more, felt her heart swell just a little more with affection. It was amazing to think Vegeta had never had anything kind or gentle or freely given to him in his life, yet here he was offering all that to her, and she cherished knowing how rare of a gift it was for him to give. In return, she wanted to show him the love she felt, the love he so painfully deserved and had been so cruelly denied all his life.

Vegeta’s hand pushed through her hair, cradling her face as he kissed her. He moved his other hand down her side until it rested on the curve of her waist, and he ran a thumb over her bare hip bone. The touch sent spirals of tingling pleasure through her, straight to her groin. Bulma shivered in delight, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

He smirked against her mouth. 

Bulma huffed, embarrassed. “What?”

“You’re so sensitive,” he said, his voice taking on a huskier tone. “I like it.”

Bulma blushed, his voice sending ripples of exhilaration through her. “What about you?” she asked, lowering her eyes coyly.

Vegeta leaned back, cocking a brow. “What about me?”

“Are you… sensitive?”

Vegeta’s smirk widened and Bulma wanted to slap him for being so confident. “Why don’t you find out?” he suggested.

Bulma narrowed her eyes at Vegeta, sussing him out, but he seemed genuine in his offer. She smirked back at him, feeling her own confidence return to her. If he was challenging her, she was ready to accept it. Bulma Briefs was no chicken.

Bulma slipped out of his hands and Vegeta shifted onto his back, laying comfortably on the bed, relaxed and amused as he watched her sit up. It was a rare sight to see him in such a good mood, his guard completely lowered. Bulma leaned over him, touching his brow. “Wow, so _this_ is what you look like when you’re not frowning,” she teased.

Unable to help himself, he frowned in response. “ _Cute_ ,” he replied dryly.

Bulma smiled back at him, amused. “You too.”

“Tch.”

“Really, Vegeta,” she insisted as she straddled his powerful thighs, sitting confidently over him. “You’re very handsome, probably the most good looking guy I know.”

“Probably?” he asked, and although he was trying to appear annoyed, Bulma could see from the way he puffed up that he was pleased with the compliment. She smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips to his ear. “ _Definitely_. Can I take your shirt off, hot stuff?”

Vegeta hummed back, the sound almost a growl. “You can.”

Bulma leaned back and slowly, oh so slowly ran her hand down his hard chest and started undoing the buttons, one by one, on his shirt. Vegeta watched her with great intensity as she did, his mouth hooked up in amusement, but his eyes danced with a darker energy. Finally she reached the last button and she pushed his shirt open, revealing the splendor beneath. She’d seen him shirtless before, but the sight never grew old, and this time he was letting her see him simply because she wanted to. Bulma hummed appreciatively. Vegeta was modeled after a god, each muscle perfectly carved, from his narrow waist and washboard abs that dipped teasingly below his pants, to his broad pecs and strong arms that he’d wrapped her up in before, his strength nearly unrivaled. He was every girl’s wet dream, and she had him all to herself, laying docile between her thighs.

“Well?” he asked, his voice cocksure, his eyes dancing with mischief as he watched her admire him.

Bulma smiled and ran her finger down his chest and stomach, between his flawless abs. When she reached his navel, her finger slowed and she ran it teasingly around his belly button, keeping her touch light. She watched Vegeta’s skin tighten and heard him suck in a hard breath.

“Looks like I’m not the only sensitive one,” Bulma teased back.

Vegeta growled and grabbed her hands. In one smooth motion he shoved her off, pushing her onto the bed and rolling on top of her. He held her hands above her head, pinning her down by her wrists. He leaned over her, smirking darkly, his shirt gaping open about her. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Bulma’s heart was beating wildly from being flipped, trapped, but it was a pleasant thrill. She trusted Vegeta completely. She tried to calm her breathing as she replied, but she was sure her excitement showed on her face. “I’ve been playing with fire the moment I met you.”

Vegeta gave her an unreadable look, his eyes taking her in. He considered something for a moment, then appeared to come a decision. Still keeping her arms pinned, he leaned down and kissed her with a hard need. His hips settled against hers and Bulma felt a heat flame to life between her thighs.

“I want you,” he growled. He broke their kiss and pulled back just far enough to watch her reaction.

Bulma was flushed, her lips parted. She could already feel him against her, thick and hard, pressing against in his jeans, grinding himself against her. Her heart was hammering wildly, her body flushed with arousal. She knew with certainty she wanted him too. She nodded at him through half-lidded eyes. “I’m yours.”

Vegeta stared at her, and a myriad of emotions flashed across his face, most of which she couldn’t discern. He finally gave her a self-deprecating smile, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why.”

Bulma felt her heart tighten, seeing his doubt at his worthiness. She gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to understand. _I’m_ the genius, remember? Let me worry about that stuff. You just worry about making me feel good.”

Vegeta smiled wryly, leaning in, releasing her wrists to rest his forearms either side of her face. His heavy body pressed against hers, his face inches from her mouth. “That I can do, or have you already forgotten about this afternoon?”

Bulma shivered pleasantly at the memory, bringing her hands to rest at the back of Vegeta’s strong neck. “Like I could ever forget that.” The memory of his fingers inside her was enough to make her wet again.

Vegeta smirked and leaned in, nuzzling her throat, kissing the hickey he’d put there. “I’ll give you something new to never forget.”

“You’d better.”

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make me.”

He kissed his way up her jaw and finally kissed her mouth. She happily shut up. 

He pressed his hips into hers as he kissed her deeply, rocking against her body in a mock gesture of what was to come. He kept one arm by her head for support, the other running down her pale side. He hitched her leg up to give himself more room between her thighs, spreading her open. Bulma gasped into his kiss, remembering that she wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt, which was now riding up her waist. She felt Vegeta’s hand slip along her leg, teasing the soft, tender skin of her inner thigh, each of his fingers keenly felt. She shivered in delight, arching up into him, wondering if he’d touch her again as before.

But he let her leg go to drift up to her sheer blouse. He undid the buttons far too deftly, and before she was mentally prepared her top fell open, allowing Vegeta a clear view of the lacy bra she had on underneath. He broke their kiss and pulled back so that he could look down at her.

Bulma blushed and tried to pull her skirt down to preserve some modesty. Vegeta caught her hands, grabbing them up and once more pinning them above her head. “Still prudish?” he asked, his tone amused, but his expression was different, hungry, ladened with desire. It made her quiver, made her feel like a very small mouse about to be eaten by a very large cat, only she was gladly letting him do so.

She blushed, indeed feeling shy to being so shamelessly revealed. She was usually a confident girl, but something about Vegeta had her always second guessing herself. Perhaps it was that he was far more confident than she was used to in others. She liked that confidence about him, hell, she was _excited_ by it, but it also put her at a disadvantage a lot of the time. She wasn’t the one in control, and it was both exhilarating and a little terrifying. 

“You don’t have to stare,” she grumbled, blushing hard, feeling exposed in more ways than one.

Vegeta smirked at her. “Yes, I _do_ ,” he insisted. His free hand slipped underneath her, and a moment later her bra latch came undone. He slowly tugged the lingerie away, revealing her young, supple breasts, her nipples already hard. Vegeta’s hand tightened on her wrists as his eyes raked in her body, stretched out compliantly beneath his, naked and ready for him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned appreciatively, and leaned in to press his brow into her shoulder, shuddering.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tensing with concern.

Vegeta took in a few deep, shaking breaths. “Just… trying not to blow my load already,” he gritted out.

Bulma gave a surprised, breathless laugh. She felt relief flood her. It was nice to know Vegeta was as human as she was; sometimes he felt so alien with how stoic and in control he always was. “What’s the matter, see something you like?” she asked, unable to help teasing him back. She arched her back a little to press her pebbled breasts against his chest.

Vegeta groaned, rolling his face into her neck. “S-stop that, woman, or this’ll be over before it starts.”

“You can come on me if you want,” she purred enticingly.

“God _damnit_ , Bulma!” he pleaded, his voice desperate for her to stop tempting him.

She smirked, enjoying herself. “Or would you rather come inside me?”

Vegeta made a pained sound. “I’m going to make you pay _dearly_ for this,” he growled warningly as he trembled against her, struggling to calm himself down. Bulma rolled her hips into his, coaxing, and he had to reach down and firmly hold her hips still lest he come too soon.

“You can, you know,” she continued, thrilled to have so much power of him. “Come inside me, I mean. It’s safe.”

His hands tightened on her. “…How?”

“I’m on the pill.”

Vegeta made a dismissive sound. “Doesn’t that take a while to take effect?”

Bulma was silent a while, feeling her cheeks heat up from the truth. Vegeta pulled back and looked at her, his brow arching as he guessed her embarrassment. “How long?”

“Ever since you moved in,” she admitted in a small voice, not meeting his eyes.

Vegeta smirked wolfishly. “Well, well. Confident of getting me in your bed, were you?”

Bulma huffed, flashing him an irritated look. “No! I just wanted to make sure I was being _safe_ , asshole.” She glared at him. “Besides, I believe we’re in _your_ bed right now.”

“I’ll be in _something_ in a minute,” he smirked back.

Bulma blushed and curled her fingers anxiously. “Are you done tormenting me?”

He laughed, soft and low, the sound rumbling into her pleasantly. “Hardly. I’m just getting started.”

Bulma’s eyes flicked up to watch him as Vegeta lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Bulma gasped, biting her lip to stifle her moan as she arched under him, feeling his warm, wet mouth pull the sensitive nub of flesh inside his mouth, his tongue wickedly flicking her nipple. She strained her arms but Vegeta kept them pinned down, refusing to let her go. He finally pulled free with a soft, wet sound, and the cool air of the bedroom kissed her wet skin cruelly.

Bulma lay trapped on the bed, panting. She looked up at him from half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving, her face flushed, her lips bruised from his previous kisses. “Vegeta,” she moaned, wriggling under him.

“Yes?” he answered her, his hand on her hip shifting to her thigh.

“I…” she stammered, losing her focus, struggling to find a way to vocalize the need she had. “Can you…”

“Can I what?” he repeated cruelly, his hand spreading her other thigh open until she was completely exposed to him. She whimpered in need and embarrassment. 

“Please, I need you,” she begged shamelessly. Her body felt on fire, drugged, like liquid need, aching for him, for something _more_.

“Are you sure?” he asked as he ran a teasing finger against her wet sex. 

Bulma cried out, trembling with tension. “Yes! God, yes I’m sure!”

“Good,” he purred. He undid his pants, just enough to pull himself free, not even bothering to take his jeans off all the way, too impatient, and they hung loosely at his hips as gripped his proud cock in his hand. Bulma wanted to look but Vegeta kissed her again, stealing the air from her lungs until she grew light headed. He rubbed the tip of himself against her slickness, and she trembled at the sensation of him. He felt hot and large and firm against her opening, and something primal awakened within her, desperate to have him fill her in a very animal way. She wanted only him, to be inside of her, completing her, taking away this terrible need that was tearing her up, shattering her into a pathetic, whimpering mess of longing.

“God, your so wet,” he growled, his voice tight.

“Vegeta!” she sobbed desperately, her hips arching into him. He let her wrists go and shucked off his shirt, and she instantly latched on to his bare shoulders, pulling at him urgently. He resisted, carefully positioning himself between her spread thighs, and slowly, oh so achingly slowly, started to inch inside of her.

Bulma keened, throwing her head back as she felt the thick head of him spread her open. Vegeta rocked his hips gently, working her open inch by agonizing inch. 

She was going mad, Bulma was sure she was going mad. The burning, aching fire was only getting worse, building and swelling and consuming her with each gentle push he made. She let her head fall to the side, gasping for air, mewling with each of his teasing strokes.

“Fuck. The _noises_ you’re making, _fuck,_ ” Vegeta growled, falling down onto his forearms, pressing his solid weight into her small, writhing body. He buried his brow into her shoulder as he had done earlier. “You’re going to make me come undone too soon with those sounds, woman.”

“Then s-stop teasing me!” she wailed, wrapping her legs around his hips, her hands clinging to his broad shoulders as a drowning person would cling to safety. 

Vegeta kissed her throat and then moved his hand to her hip, holding her down in place. “I’m going to push all the way in,” he warned her.

Bulma nodded, then keened as he kept his word, sinking his thick, hot length deep into her. He stretched her full, and when he could go no further he stilled for a moment, looking down the length of their bodies, connected together, hers quivering and whimpering under him. Then he pulled out and thrust back in, again and again until he could bury himself entirely inside her with little resistance. Bulma lost all reason. Her thighs were shaking, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, every part of her body on edge, electrified, burning, _burning_. 

He picked up his rhythm, thrusting into her with more urgency. Bulma wailed each time, her hands clawing at his shoulders, arms, the pillows, anything she could touch. She couldn’t even move her hips to meet his, his unyielding hand keeping her pinned to the bed as he fucked her completely. She could feel the desperate pressure getting worse, raging and swelling more and more as he sank into her again and again and again…

“Vegeta~!” she wailed, getting lost in the pleasure, feeling swirling emotions so strongly it was almost terrifying. “ _Please_!”

He shifted his weight, changing his angle ever so slightly. His hand moved from her hip to her leg, and he pushed her thighs open wider still, sinking in even deeper than before, his pelvis rubbing against her clit with each thrust. It was more than she could bear. Bulma could feel the crescendo coming, swelling and mounting as he fucked her hard and deep and without mercy, no longer holding back. He grabbed a handful of her hair and leaned over her, tugging her head back to bare her neck in submission. “Come for me, little Briefs,” he growled possessively. Her climax slammed into her like a wave, unstoppable, unmerciful, sweeping her along in its wake.

She arched back wildly as she came, crashing over the edge. “Ve~ge~ta!” she wailed, sobbing on his name as she squeezed around him, her whole body tensing and tightening, trembling. 

He held her close as he continued to thrust inside her, his own breath coming hard and short. Her first name escaped his lips, spoken reverently, almost as if he hadn’t meant to, as he desperately chased his own ending between her thighs.

She held him close, still quivering with pleasure. “I love you, Vegeta,” she whispered weakly into his ear.

Vegeta choked back a cry as he came, slamming into her, spilling himself inside her belly. 

He held her close as he finished, as if she were the most precious thing that needed to be protected. His arms trembled as he slowed his hips, eking out the last of his pleasure within her. Then he collapsed on top, panting hard, his body hot and sweaty.

He was extremely heavy, all muscle, but Bulma didn’t protest the weight. It was comforting, and she wasn’t nearly ready for him to pull out or away yet. She wrapped her arms about him and held him close as they both recovered, gasping for air. Vegeta still clung to her as if she were made of glass, as if the world were out to break her and only he could keep her safe. She never wanted him to let her go if he would hold her like that forever, his most valued treasure.

“That… was amazing,” she murmured when she was able to form coherent words.

He made an affirmative sound, unable to speak just yet, still catching his breath.

Long, blissful seconds ticked passed. Finally Vegeta found his strength and moved his weight. He kissed her collarbone, then her throat, and then her cheek. He looked down at her, his expression achingly affectionate, the softest smile she’d seen yet on his lips. “Okay?” he asked her, nudging her with his nose, like a puppy bunting something with its snout.

Bulma smiled back and nodded, bringing her hand up to brush her thumb against his cheek, marveling at his tenderness. “Yeah. You were incredible.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Thanks. You were alright.”

Bulma stiffened. “ _Alright_?!”

Vegeta grinned widely, unabashed, looking painfully handsome and dishevelled. He was riling her up on purpose.

Bulma narrowed her eyes and gave him a gentle shove. “Jerk.”

Vegeta’s teeth flashed in a silent laugh.  “That’s not what you were saying a moment ago. I believe it was more like, ‘ _Oh Vegeta, please, Vegeta!_ ’” he mocked, changing the pitch of his voice to be higher and more feminine.

Bulma blushed furiously and tried to shove him off, but he was as immovable as a rock. “You are such a dick sometimes!”

“Lucky for you.”

“Ugh! You’re impossible!”

Vegeta chuckled, and he ran his fingers through her hair, the gentle touch stilling her struggles. “You’re too easy. It’s cute.”

Bulma fell silent at the compliment, stunned, never thinking she’d hear him say such a word, especially about her, and it made her feel a little bashful.

Vegeta looked down the lengths of their bodies and sighed. “I’m pulling out.”

Bulma didn’t want him to, but she nodded and bit her lip as he left her. She felt something ooze out of her and clamped her thighs closed in embarrassment, her face growing pink.

Vegeta smirked at her knowingly. 

“Don’t you _dare_ say anything,” Bulma glowered at him. “It’s all _your_ doing after all.”

“Allow me then,” he offered, and scooped her up. Bulma yelped in surprise, and clung on as Vegeta carried her to the bathroom to shower. She rested her head against his broad chest and curled her fingers about his neck. It occurred to her that she could never be happier than she was at this moment, and she was totally okay with that.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

_**AN** : <3_

_Once again, find the full uncensored version over on_ **_Adult-FanFiction_ ** _or_ **_MediaMiner_ ** _. Yes, I realize there are more smutty chapters here on FFnet, but I’ve also read how other authors have had their stories pulled and worse, lost all their lovely reviews, and I’m not going to risk that. It’s a pain in the butt, but thems the rules._

**Once you’ve finished reading, I’d really love for you to come back and leave a review on FFnet if you’re able! I get neurotic without a steady stream of feedback.**

_Ugh, I think I’m getting sick >_<. Hope you guys are well tho, and hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	21. 21 - Confession (w FANART)

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.21 - Confession**

 

It was the best shower of her life. She and Vegeta stayed under the hot spray together, but cleaning each other up wasn’t their first priority, that honor went to making-out and lazily exploring each other’s bodies as hot rivulets of water ran over them, between them, coursing over her soft curves and his hard planes. There was no rush, they had all the time in the world to embrace and kiss and run their hands over each, so that when they were finally clean, Vegeta was hard again, pressing himself against her belly. The sight of his arousal was thrilling, and Bulma welcomed him when he pushed her against the shower wall and fucked her oh-so slowly, leisurely. The urgency from their previous session had been spent, and they could take their time just enjoying the sensations of him being inside her, thrusting, building up to their release.

Bulma came, trembling, gasping his name against the shower tiles, wanting nothing more than for this moment, this sensation to last forever. He held her hips as he spilt himself inside of her again, pressing his brow into her shoulder. 

The clean up was incredibly easy. 

It wasn’t until they were drying off that Bulma noticed the nail marks she’d left on Vegeta’s shoulders from their first session, red ugly scratches that looked painful raking down his skin. “Oh my god, Vegeta, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, feeling awful.

He looked confused until he caught her gaze and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He barely reacted, making a dismissive sound. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Let me put something on it at least,” she insisted, reaching out, seeing she’d broken the skin in some places.

Vegeta grabbed her wrist and caught her eyes. He gave her a serious, but gentle look. “Bulma, it’s _fine_. This is _nothing_ , trust me.” When he saw she still had doubts, he gave her a small smile, and pulled her in, hugging her, nuzzling her ear. “I promise,” he whispered, his voice soft and deeply reassuring. Bulma was helpless to argue with it.

Vegeta got changed and offered to heat up leftovers for dinner. Bulma agreed, exhausted, and barely made it to the couch before she fell asleep waiting for Vegeta to return from the kitchen. When she awoke, there was a blanket over her and a plate of cold food on the table. Vegeta was sitting on the floor by her couch, an empty plate next to him, his head drooped forward over his game boy, the screen showing ‘game over’. Bulma smiled at him, watching him sleep, her heart squeezing fondly.

She tried to sit up quietly, but Vegeta woke with a start and looked around, for a moment disorientated, clearly not having meant to fall asleep. Bulma picked up her plate and ate her food as Vegeta rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up.

“Why not go to bed?” she suggested.

“I need to train,” he grumbled, still half asleep. “If what Zarbon said was true…”

Bulma had to think for a minute before she remembered the school MMA matchup Zarbon had mentioned, supposedly happening this Friday. “Wait, you mean he’s a _high-school_ student?” she asked, incredulous. Zarbon looked to be in his early twenties.

“Don’t get me started,” Vegeta spat. “He’s had to repeat, at least once that I know of. Whether on purpose or not is up for debate.”

Bulma watched Vegeta struggle to wake up, rubbing his face and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. She hesitated to ask her next question. “Do you think you can win?”

Vegeta paused in his actions, weighing her words. “…He’s always been better than me,” he finally admitted, his tone bitter.

Bulma put her food aside and sank down on the floor to sit by him. She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You’re a lot stronger now though. You’ve been training, and eating well, and working out in the best equipped gym in the city.”

Vegeta shook his head. “I need to get stronger. It’s not enough.”

“Where?” she asked, looking at him squarely “Show me.” He peeled his hands away from his face to meet her gaze, surprised by her question.

He raised his brows. “Show you what?”

“Where could you possibly get stronger?” Bulma insisted. She touched a finger to his brow, tapping his head. “Here? Because you’re the smartest person I know, after myself and my father of course, and equally as stubborn.” Vegeta frowned at her, but Bulma pressed on. She touched his bicep. “Here?” She touched his pec. “Or here?” Then she ran her finger to his abdomen. “Or maybe here? All I see, all I feel is pure muscle. Really Vegeta, you’re a goddamn terminator. Haven’t you noticed? You’re _ripped_ , I mean, you always were, but you’re probably twice the size now than when you first started living here.” 

Vegeta gave her a bemused look. Bulma’s eyes widened. “You really don’t know?” How could he not have noticed how much improvement he’d made? “Surely you’ve seen from your training?”

He huffed. “Well of course, I know I’m stronger, I’m lifting a lot more than what I could before, but I’ve no idea what _you’re_ talking about.”

Bulma shook her head, amazed at his ignorance. “Haven’t you noticed your clothes fitting…” she trailed off, remembering that most of Vegeta’s clothes had always been too big to hide his beatings. He wouldn’t have noticed his clothes fitting differently since they never fit properly in the first place. He did have some fitted clothes, but they were mostly undershirts which could stretch. Surely there had to be something he had that would show how much he’d changed not only in strength, but in size. She frowned, thinking, then got an idea. “Oh! Where’s that black shirt you had on when you came over for brunch?”

His brows raised up. “Like I remember what I was wearing then!” he spluttered, irritated at her inane request.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Well you certainly looked like you were making an effort to impress, so I just assumed it was something you might remember wearing.”

Vegeta looked away, blushing a little. “Oh, yeah, _that_ …. Well, it’s the only dress shirt I had before moving here. It’s probably in the closet,” he replied.

“I’ll get it!” Bulma offered. She hoped up and ran off to Vegeta’s closet before he could protest. When she found the shirt in question, she came back and shoved it at him. “Go on, put it on.”

He gave her an odd look, but dragged himself up to his feet to comply. He pulled his shirt off from the back of the neck, and Bulma drank in the sight of his flat stomach and broad chest as he revealed it. She could look at him for days and never grow bored. Vegeta then took the offered shirt and tried to slip it on. He had trouble fitting his arms comfortably into the sleeves, and then couldn’t stretch the shirt closed over his broad chest.

“Tch, the dryer must have shrunk it,” he grunted, annoyed.

Bulma clucked her tongue at him. “I’m going to have to take back my statement about you being the next smartest person I know.”

Vegeta glared at her and tore the shirt off his body, throwing it to the side, annoyed with it. He stomped over to her mirror to get a good look at himself. He frowned at his reflection as he took himself in, eyeing his body coldly, his gaze calculating. Bulma knew Vegeta had always thought highly of his physique, so it was amazing to think he’d never noticed how much larger he’d grown. But she could see it now, his eyes assessing himself, allowing himself to criticize less, and preen more. He flexed his arm, watching his bicep bulge. 

“If you keep doing that, I am not going to let you leave this room,” Bulma purred, admiring the view. Vegeta looked at her in the mirror’s reflection, smirking at her. 

“Perhaps I should do my warm up routine here,” he offered, knowing how much she liked to watch him do push ups. 

“ _Please_ ,” she agreed, but to her disappointment he didn’t oblige, and she pouted. 

Vegeta came over and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks. But I still have a ways to go. You don’t know Zarbon and these goons the way I do. Rest. Don’t wait up for me.”

Bulma sighed and watched in disappointment as Vegeta left, still topless, to go and train. Despite what he said, she still tried to wait up for him to come back, but the hour grew later and later, and Bulma eventually dragged herself to bed and fell asleep. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

She woke in the night to warm hands running up her legs and a hot mouth kissing up her thighs. Bulma let out a languid sigh as Vegeta’s shadow loomed over her. She could smell soap in the air; he’d come to her fresh from a shower. He continued his sensual massage of her legs until at last he reached her panties. In one clean motion he pulled them down and off, tossing them aside. In the dark and still half asleep, Bulma didn’t feel ashamed to be stripped bare before her so carelessly. Her head arched back and she let out a moan as he grabbed her buttocks, lifting her hips up in his hands, her thighs falling apart. A moment later his hot breath was on her, teasing her center. She barely had time to process what he was about to do when she felt a warm, wet tongue slip between her lips.

Several mind blowing minutes later she came against his mouth, shuddering and trembling in ecstasy. He set her down and slipped inside her as she was still throbbing, and he moved in her deeply, his powerful body rocking over her until he came. Bulma writhed beneath him, too tired to bring herself over the edge for a fourth time, but their coupling still felt incredible, and she fell asleep contented in his arms, neither of them caring about the mess, exhausted and sated.

The next morning Bulma woke as fingers gently stroked her arms and hips. It was the nicest way to wake up, soothing hands against her skin. She hummed pleasantly and stretched, feeling something hard and now familiar prodding her from behind. She smirked. “Good morning?” she teasingly asked.

In response she heard a playful growl from Vegeta, and he bit her shoulder. Bulma shivered in pleasure, quickly warming up to the idea of morning sex. His hand moved around to grab her thigh and move her into a more agreeable position, but as he did his fingers touched a tender part of her flesh, and she flinched. “Oh, _ow_.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up in alarm to look at her. He sucked in a sharp breath. Bulma looked down and saw the damage. There were bruises everywhere, little ones, scattered all over her wrists and arms, her thighs and hips, all the places Vegeta had grabbed her and held her as they’d done fantastic things together. 

Vegeta reeled when he saw what he’d done to her, his jaw clenching. “I _hurt_ you,” he said, sounding distressed.

Surprised, Bulma looked up at him, seeing the pain and fury writ large across his face. She touched his arm reassuringly. “No, Vegeta. It barely hurts.”

“Not _yet_ , maybe,” he replied, his tone telling her he was in the middle of mentally flagellating himself. His expression was vexed, his eyes wounded. Bulma had the feeling if she didn’t pull him out of his funk now, he would continue to stew over this for days.

She pulled on him and he reluctantly let her drag him down. Bulma cuddled up close against him, burying her face against his chest. “They’re good bruises,” she said, unconcerned by her injuries. She wasn’t lying. The bruises really didn’t hurt unless they were pressed on, and they only reminded her of what she and Vegeta had done together, which were very pleasant memories to be reminded of. “ _Very_ good bruises,” she stressed. “Badges of honor,” she added as an afterthought, remembering what Vegeta had told her after she’d fallen down the cliff and been hideously bruised.

She felt him gradually relax, the tension leaving him as he eased against her. He wrapped her up against him, and started stroking her back. “I wasn’t even thinking about… I just got caught up in… Fuck, you’re so pathetically frail.”

“I think you mean ‘delicate’,” she tried to correct.

“Tch…” Vegeta grouched. “… I can’t believe you aren’t horrified. Most girls would be running the other way.”

“Mm. Good thing I’m not most girls,” Bulma hummed, unconcerned.

“I noticed,” he replied wryly.

Bulma wriggled closer against him. “That had _better_ be a compliment.”

“It was,” he said, and she could hear the hint of amusement in his voice. Good, she was winning him over. 

“Besides,” she said, refocusing the conversation, pushing herself against him and purring in his ear. “Did it sound like any of these bruises hurt while you were giving them to me?” 

She sneaked a look at him, and could see he started to smile. His fingers were trailing over a bruise, and when she didn’t flinch, he looked appeased. “No,” he admitted ruefully.

Bulma smiled, victorious. “See? Although perhaps you should give me a few more, just so you’re satisfied,” she grinned, trailing her hand down his front, watching the way his nipples hardened as her fingers B-lined towards his groin.

“Bruises are not what’s going to satisfy me,” he replied, his voice getting lower, his eyes narrowing over a smirk.

“Oh?” she asked, swirling her finger at the base of him, watching him swell and thicken at the promise of her touch.

Vegeta settled his arms behind his head, getting comfortable, his eyes falling closed. “No. That would take some pretty little thing whose rug really does match her drapes.”

Bulma reeled back, giving Vegeta an appalled look. He opened his eyes to smirk at her evilly.

“You creep!” She shouted, grabbing up the blankets to cover herself even as her cheeks grew red in anger and embarrassment.

Vegeta burst into laughter. The sound erupted from him, filling the room, utterly disarming, light and carefree. It stunned her for a moment, but she quickly recovered and gave his chest a small thump with her fist, which only made him laugh harder. Bulma pouted, mostly because she was having trouble staying angry at him when he sounded so genuinely amused. Vegeta laughing was so rare; smirking, yes, a barked laugh, sometimes, but _this_ , rolling on his side and gasping for air? Unheard of. Bulma fought back her own amusement and tried to pretend she was still upset. “Jerk.”

“Maybe,” he agreed amiably when he caught his breath, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. He grinned and reached out, pulling her down into his arms, and she gave up on being ‘mad’ to snuggle him.

They cuddled a while longer until their stomachs got the best of them. Bulma cooked them a large breakfast which they shared, but afterwards Vegeta left her to train. 

The following school week proved… interesting, to say the least. Bulma wore a scarf to school to keep the nasty hickey Vegeta had given her covered, although the moment Chi-Chi saw the scarf, the dark haired girl gave Bulma a very knowing smirk and made loud remarks about it every chance she got. If that weren’t bad enough, Bulma could hardly stay focused in class, her thoughts often drifting to Vegeta, even when he wasn’t with her. It was worse when he was. He only had to look at her a certain way, a dark, mischievous glint in his eye, raking his gaze over her in a knowing fashion as though deciding which of many ways he was going to have her, and Bulma found herself instantly wishing for the home bell, and a dry pair of underwear. 

They made it two days of school, two days of barely making it home before ripping each other’s clothes off to have at each other, before they couldn’t wait to get home any longer. The catalyst was a text message. Vegeta had been riling her up in advanced class all morning, stretching more than was necessary in his seat, his muscles flexing appealingly under a fitted t-shirt, shooting her sly glances from the corner of his eye, knowing she watched him instead of the teacher. She could have let it go at that, but then his hand dropped down, hanging below his desk. Bulma watched with rapt curiosity as Vegeta made a strange gesture, two fingers pointed up, pushing up, and then stretching out… Bulma’s face went bright red when she realized what he was insinuating, and she had to clamp her thighs together as if to protect herself from his gesture. Oh, that was _it_ , she was determined to get him back. When she was able, Bulma texted him a very suggestive message, something about being hungry and unable to wait to put something hot and creamy in her mouth to roll her tongue all over. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Vegeta abducted her at the lunch break, pulling her into the PE shed to have his way with her against the dusty gym mats. First the movie theater, now this. Bulma had never considered herself the kind of girl to do such lewd things in public places, but when it came to Vegeta she just didn’t care. She just needed to be with him, needed him to be in her, and despite their brazen acts she knew that with him, whatever they did, wherever they did it, it was more than just a cheap fuck. Although he never returned her sentiment verbally, Bulma often confessed her love for him as they writhed together, tangled up all sweaty in each other, and Vegeta let her confess without ridicule. She knew it was as much of an acceptance from him as she was going to get, and the tender way he held her after and nuzzled her told her all she needed to know.

When they weren’t at school or fooling around, Vegeta was training for the match on Friday that Piccolo had confirmed was happening. Bulma would catch Vegeta checking out his reflection over the course of the week, and each time he did so, he looked a little more confident, starting to think he might have a chance against his old tormentor. No one else but Bulma and Vegeta knew the importance of this fight - Vegeta’s pride and a lifetime grudge rested on him winning. As the day grew closer, Bulma started to feel anxious. What if Vegeta lost? How would he take such a defeat? And if he won, would there be any repercussions? But if Vegeta had any similar concerns he kept them to himself, and the more she worried, the less Vegeta appeared to. By the time Friday rolled around, Vegeta was walking tall and full of himself, ready to take on the world, or at the very least, Zarbon.

Friday arrived and saw Bulma, Vegeta and the MMA crew all pile into the school bus after classes to head to Zarbon’s school. Goku and the others were in good spirits, excited to be sparring other students and trying out their skills. Even Vegeta was smiling and participating in some of their banter, exchanging smack talk with the guys, boasting about how he would end the other team and take on everyone else’s opponents too if they were too scared or weak to fight. It was nice to see Vegeta in such good spirits.

“Wow, I’ve never seen Vegeta so animated before,” Chi-Chi whispered to Bulma as they watched Vegeta preen at a compliment Goku was paying him. “He must be eager to fight,” her gaze slide over to Bulma, a wicked glint in her eye. “Or something _else_ has been lifting his spirits, perhaps at home?”

Bulma blushed, sticking her nose up. “I’ve no idea what you could be insinuating.”

Chi-Chi squealed and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god, you two have been sleeping together!” she hissed excitedly.

Bulma shot her friend a nasty glare. She hated how easily Chi-Chi could read her. “Cut that out, do you want the whole bus to hear?” Bulma asked, glancing around, but the boys - Yamcha included - weren’t paying them any attention, thankfully. 

Chi-Chi grinned through her splayed fingers, entirely unabashed. “Sorry honey, I’m just really excited for you.” She leaned in, grabbing Bulma’s hands. “So tell me, does he know how to use that body of his, or is he as rigid in bed as his personality?”

“ _Chi-Chi_!” Bulma hissed, appalled. “You’re a horrible gossip, I’m not telling you anything.”

Chi-Chi winced. “Oh, he’s that bad, huh?”

Bulma felt indignation stiffed her spine. “ _Please_ , he’s _amazing_ , thank you _very_ much,” she replied hotly before she realized she’d fallen for Chi-Chi’s trap, giving the girl exactly what she wanted to know. Bulma groaned, slapping her palm over her face as Chi-Chi squealed in delight.

“I’m so happy for you!” Chi-Chi exclaimed and leaned in to hug her friend. Bulma endured it, grumbling all the while.

They arrived at the school and filed out into the parking lot. Bulma caught up to Vegeta before they headed inside. “Good luck,” she wished him with a smile, refraining from touching him openly in front of her friends, especially with Yamcha present.

Vegeta folded his arms and smirked at her. “Like I’ll need it.”

Bulma flashed him a thumbs up. She glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then blew him a quick kiss and a wink. Vegeta looked away, blushing. They caught up with the others and headed inside in the gym.

Once everyone was settled, introductions given and rules announced, the other school’s coach started the event. “First up, Zarbon versus Vegeta. Fighters, take your places.”

“Go kill ‘im, Vegeta!”

“Murder that guy!”

“You’ve got this, strong guy!”

Bulma’s heart filled with joy as she watched the team send Vegeta their luck and well wishes, and was even more amazed when Vegeta received them with a cocky smile rather than a dismissive sneer. Having a common enemy was really bringing their little gang together. 

Vegeta stepped into the ring placed the middle of the gym, Zarbon stepping into the opposite end. “Oh my god, he’s huge,” Chi-Chi said nervously, eyeing Zarbon from their seats. 

Bulma just nodded. She didn’t take her eyes from the ring, not wanting to miss a second. She couldn’t imagine what Vegeta was going through. He stood there confidently, arms folded, but as soon as he saw Zarbon his smile took on a harder edge.

The referee stood up. “Winners are determined by knock out, tap out, or points award at the end of the round. No groin shots, knees to the face, head butts, gouging, or biting. Let’s have a clean match, boys. Fighters, do you understand the rules?”

Both Vegeta and Zarbon nodded. Zarbon was smirking at Vegeta, while Vegeta’s expression turned serious, focused.

“Fighters, touch gloves,” the referee instructed. Zarbon grinned widely as he held out his fists, but Vegeta sneered and didn’t return the gesture. 

Chi-Chi clucked her tongue at Vegeta’s poor sportsmanship, but Bulma understood. There was bad blood between these two. Vegeta wasn’t interested in playing nice.

The ref had them move back to opposite ends of the ring. “Fight!” he called. 

Bulma expected Vegeta to start cautiously, but as the two boys moved closer in to each other, she gasped when he was the first to attack, dodging in with alarming speed. Zarbon reacted, throwing a punch Vegeta’s way. It looked sure to hit, and it did, right into Vegeta’s palm as he caught Zarbon’s fist mid-air. The small audience gasped, impressed. Zarbon’s face twisted in shock. Vegeta grinned darkly, squeezing Zarbon’s fist tightly.

Vegeta shoved the hand away and Zarbon stumbled back a few steps, flexing his fingers to shake off Vegeta’s grip. “Well, well, you surprise me, Vegeta,” Zarbon admitted.

Vegeta chuckled softly. “I’ve learned a few tricks since last we fought,” he confided cockily.

Zarbon didn’t seem to take kindly to that. He threw himself towards Vegeta, pressing a furious attack of kicks and punches. Vegeta wove side to side, dodging the onslaught nimbly. Zarbon was growing more and more irritated. He tried a high kick, and Vegeta slipped to the side, using the opening to lash out with his own kick which caught Zarbon and sent the older boy down.

Zarbon tried to scramble to his feet but Vegeta pressed his advantage. When Zarbon found his feet, Vegeta kicked him again, sending Zarbon once more sprawling face down. Vegeta stayed back, watching from a safe distance as Zarbon recovered, letting it sink in that he was dominating the match. 

Zarbon slowly pushed up on his arms, gasping for air, his head hanging low. Then a sound filled the room, soft at first, but louder until it echoed in the gym. Vegeta frowned. Zarbon was laughing.

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” Chi-Chi asked; Bulma said nothing. She felt an uneasy chill at Zarbon’s laughter. She glanced again at Vegeta and saw that he was also unsettled.

Zarbon stood, wiping spit from his mouth. He grinned at Vegeta. “Oh, I have to concede, you’ve greatly improved, Vegeta. I’m impressed.” That he admitted as much with a smile had Bulma uneasy. She saw Vegeta shift, into a defensive position, waiting for an attack. Something just wasn’t right.

Then Zarbon’s team started chanting, “ _BEAST. BEAST. BEAST. BEAST!_ ”

Zarbon chuckled, glancing at his team and waving a hand at them good-naturedly. He looked back at Vegeta. “Unfortunately, Vegeta, it’s still not enough. But you knew that, didn’t you?” 

“ _BEAST. BEAST. BEAST._ ”

Vegeta gave the chanting crowd an irritated glance before looking back at Zarbon, scowling. He stood, wary, waiting for an attack. Zarbon however just chuckled, straightening his back. He turned around and grabbed his shirt, facing the crowd. “Allow me to introduce you to the Beast,” he declared dramatically over his shoulder. In one smooth movement, Zarbon ripped his shirt over his head, proudly displaying his torso. On his back and shoulders was a large tattoo, some hideous lizard-like monster inked across his body. Zarbon’s team crowed in approval at the tattoo’s reveal, hooting and crying out, “It’s the Beast!” 

“The little guy’s in for it now!” 

“The Beast, the Beast!”

The look on Vegeta’s face told Bulma that he had no idea about the tattoo despite having lived with Zarbon for years. Vegeta was so stunned that he wasn’t able to react in time when Zarbon suddenly stopped preening and lunged at him, kneeing Vegeta in the gut. Vegeta doubled over with a pained cry, and Zarbon grabbed Vegeta’s head, drawing them in to slam their skulls together.

The whistle blew and the referee jumped in to pull the two boys apart as the room erupted into noise. Zarbon’s team was cheering while Vegeta’s were objecting the foul move. Zarbon laughed, unconcerned by the chaos, watching in amusement as Vegeta staggered back, trying to find his balance after the blow to his head. Vegeta’s face was twisted in a silent snarl, glaring at Zarbon as he held his brow, blood trickling down into his eye.

“Foul move! Zarbon is disqualified. Vegeta wins!” The referee announced and grabbed Vegeta’s arm, lifting it in the air. More noise filled the gym, this time protests arising from Zarbon’s team, while Goku and the others applauded the decision. Strangely, Zarbon didn’t seem upset about the technical loss, while Vegeta didn’t look pleased by his win. As soon as the ref let his arm go, Vegeta stormed off, but Zarbon grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from leaving the ring. Zarbon leaned in and whispered something to Vegeta that Bulma couldn’t hear from her seat.

Whatever Zarbon was saying, the news twisted Vegeta’s face bitterly. He glanced at her for a heartbeat, something painful flashing in his eyes, then he looked askance. He shoved Zarbon out of his way and continued to stomp off the matts. He snatched up a rag to stop the bleeding from the cut on his eyebrow and sat down on a bench far away from everyone else, brooding and glowering into space. 

Bulma stood to follow, but a hand weighed on her shoulder. She looked over at Goku who gave her a friendly, sympathetic smile. “Let him have a minute to calm down,” Goku suggested.

Bulma reluctantly sat back down. She was worried, but Goku was probably right. This fight had held a lot of emotional baggage for Vegeta, and it hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d wanted it too. She knew Vegeta wasn’t happy with a technical win, especially when Zarbon had started to get the upper hand. Vegeta needed time to process what had happened and to nurse his bruised ego. Bulma cast Vegeta another worried look before she let her attention be pulled back to the ring, hearing Goku’s name called for the next match.

Goku’s fight was over quickly and in his favor, despite the other boy being even bigger than Zarbon. It was a clean fight, no fouls, the other boy putting on a good show, but Goku easily dominated him. Bulma glanced at Vegeta during the match, seeing that he watched the fight with an intense gaze. For some reason Vegeta looked furious, and when the referee held up Goku’s arm in victory, Vegeta gritted his teeth and threw his bloody rag away, utterly livid. He got up and left the gym, heading towards the bathrooms.

The match ups continued. After the fourth battle, Vegeta still hadn’t returned. “Have you seen Vegeta?” Bulma asked her friends, but no one had. She waited for him anxiously. Soon all the fighters had participated in their bouts, but Vegeta was still missing. At her insistence, Goku went to the bathroom to look for him, but when he came out, he shook his head. “It’s empty,” Goku told her.

Vegeta must have slipped out some back way. Bulma checked her phone but there were no messages. She couldn’t help feeling a little betrayed. After their week together, barely leaving each other’s company, it was a blow to think that Vegeta had just left without a word to her, even if he was upset. 

She tried calling his cell, but he didn’t answer. She sent him a text asking if he was okay and to get in contact with her when he could. She waited and waited, but there was no reply.

“Alright, time to pack up,” Piccolo said, and everyone started getting up and heading out into the paling evening light. Bulma lingered in the parking lot, searching for Vegeta, but he was no where to be seen. Piccolo honked the horn and Bulma stepped into the bus.

“Coach, Vegeta isn’t here,” Bulma protested as Piccolo put the keys into the ignition.

“Vegeta? He called and said he was going to find his own way back,” Piccolo told her nonchalantly.

Bulma’s eyes widened, shocked. Vegeta had spoken to Coach, but not her? She sat down in the bus dumbly and stared outside as a light rain started pattering against the window panes. Her friends were all talking around her about their bouts, but Bulma was deaf to their words, her stomach twisting in knots over Vegeta’s whereabouts, her thoughts as stormy as the weather.

When she got home she searched the whole house, but Vegeta wasn’t there. Hours ticked by and as the evening grew later. Bulma was beside herself with worry. She tried calling him and sending more messages but to no avail. She finally fell asleep in a chair, waiting for Vegeta to come home, her phone still in her hand.

She was awoken by a sharp sound. She startled awake as her phone rang, buzzing against her fingers. Vegeta’s ID was on the screen.

She hurriedly answered the call. “Vegeta?”

There was no answer, just white noise. Bulma frowned. She checked the call but it was active. She placed the phone back to her ear. “Vegeta? Can you hear me?” she tried again.

“…Yeah,” he replied, his voice quiet, strained. It was such a huge relief to finally hear from him, and her relief quickly turned to anger.

“What the HELL, Vegeta! Do you have _any_ idea how worried I’ve been about you?” she yelled into the receiver, on the brink of tears.

He chuckled weakly. “It’s good to hear your voice, too,” he said.

His compliment silenced her. It wasn’t like Vegeta to be so tender with his words. Bulma felt an uneasiness prickle her. “Vegeta… where are you?” she asked, worried.

“Never mind that,” he replied, his voice still strained. “I just wanted to hear you speak.”

“What?… Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Bulma felt her uneasiness spike. “Yes!” she replied back, her heart beating wildly, disturbed by his strangeness. Vegeta never wanted to _just talk_. “Vegeta, what’s wrong, what’s going on?”

He sighed but right at the end it turned into a cough. It sounded wet and painful. “…Fuck,” he swore weakly when he was able to catch his breath.

Bulma’s hand was shaking as she clutched the cell phone to her ear, listening to him struggle to breathe, horrified. “Vegeta…?” she whispered softly, frightened for him. She could feel tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey,” he croaked at her, trying to sound cheerful. “What’s that thing you always say to me?”

“Wh-what thing?” she asked, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. Something was very, very wrong.

“When we’re together, in bed, and you’re about to come. What do you say to me?” he insisted quietly.

Bulma felt the tears continue to fall, unable to stop them. “Th-that I l-love you?”

Vegeta started coughing again. It took a while for him to stop. Finally his breathing eased. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Vegeta, _what’s going on_ ,” Bulma insisted frantically, sobbing.

“I just don’t understand it,” he continued, almost as if he hadn’t heard her, and he laughed, sounding pained. “You’re so smart, Bulma, but when it comes to men, you really are stupid. How could someone like you love someone like me? It just doesn’t make sense. I don’t deserve it.”

She was weeping openly now, destroyed by the sounds he was making and the words he was saying. She wanted to hit something in frustration. “It’s _true_ ,” she insisted at his denial, her voice hitching wetly.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, sadly. “I know. And I’ll never forgive myself for it. And I’ll never forgive myself, if I don’t…”

He trailed off. Bulma waited, but when he didn’t continue she grew scared. “Vegeta? Vegeta! If you don’t _what_?”

He groaned, and his breath came out in a shudder. He was injured, she was certain, seriously. She’s never felt more scared. Bulma jumped up, running to her father’s office to boot up his computer, brushing away her tears. “Vegeta, please, tell me where you are.”

“Can’t… Don’t know myself,” he laughed wryly, only to start coughing again.

Bulma plugged her phone into the computer and loaded up a program. “Vegeta, what happened?” she insisted again, just trying to get him to stay on the line with her. “Where did you go after today’s fight with Zarbon?”

“ _Zarbon_ ,” Vegeta groaned, choking spitefully on the name. “I could have had him. I know I could have…” Vegeta grunted, sucking in a pained breath. “Bulma, listen… Stay away from him. Stay off their radar. I can’t…”

Numbers and maps started pulling up on the computer screen, and Bulma typed in instructions as the software started scanning. “What are you talking about?”

“Hey~,” he said, his voice weak. Bulma could hardly breath for the fear that gripped her chest.

“Mm?” she replied, not trusting her voice to form words.

“Hey, Bulma…” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Uh-huh?” she replied nervously, tears still slipping down her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“F-for what?”

“Everything…”

“Vegeta?”

The screen flashed, and Bulma stared at the results of her search popped up on the computer: Vegeta’s GPS coordinates were highlighted on a map, several miles away from her location.

“You were right,” he confessed, his voice fading. “I am a jerk.”

“I know,” she said, half laughing, half sobbing, wiping the wetness from her eyes so she could copy down his coordinates.

“Bulma… I love you.” 

Bulma froze, her pen falling from her fingers, her breath caught in her lungs. She couldn’t form a reply, her words lost, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Then the phone call ended, the line going dead, and just like that, he was gone.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

  _ **AN:** … This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper. _

_..... Art by[Goldenrosey101](https://twitter.com/goldenrosey101)_

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/goldenrosey101_Friends_zpsdvefajsi.jpg.html)


	22. 22 - A Message (w FANART)

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.22 - A Message**

 

The dead dial tone beeped in her ear. For Bulma, it was as if the very world around her died with it.

The flashing computer screen brought her back, Vegeta’s GPS coordinates beckoning, like a siren call. Bulma shook herself out of her paralysis, pocketing her phone and picking up her pen to write the rest of the coordinates down. As soon as she had them, Bulma dashed from the room. There was no time to waste. Without a second thought she grabbed the keys to one of their scooters, and even though she wasn’t supposed to ride it, Bulma didn’t care, jumping on and setting up the GPS. She peeled out of the garage and while riding, used the speaker on her phone to call the emergency number, asking for assistance at Vegeta’s location. She hung up as soon as she’d relayed the message, having no time for whatever the dispatcher was saying because Bulma wanted to call Vegeta back.

It went straight to voice mail.

She struggled to see through her tears as she madly drove down the dark streets. Thankfully the hour and location meant there was little traffic to contend with. Finally, Bulma neared the GPS location, coming to a stop at a dead end road. She looked around. Off the side of the road was a small, paved square with a fountain. Something dark was lying sprawled against it, half illuminated in the light of the moon. Bulma got off her scooter and cautiously approached, her heart in her throat.

As she got closer, the shadow took form, becoming a familiar, spiky-haired silhouette. She picked up the pace, hurrying towards Vegeta. She could see now that he was clutching his belly, something glistening against his hands. He was sucking in small, pained breaths, and his head raised drunkenly to focus on her as she approached. His eyes widened, and he gave her a weak smile when he spotted her. 

The sight of him just laying there was frightening, and when she reached his side she could see why he didn’t move. He’d been stabbed in the gut. There was blood everywhere. A lot of it, pooling around him and soaked into his clothes. He looked pale, and she saw that his hands were trembling, barely able to clutch his wound to stem the bleeding. “Vegeta…” she gasped, alarmed.

At her voice, Vegeta’s smile faded into a frown, and he blinked a few times. Finally he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. “Oh, fuck. You’re _actually_ here, aren’t you, not just a hallucination? _Goddamnit_. How the _fuck_ are you here?”

“I’m a genius, remember?” she said, her voice trembling, trying to sound braver than she felt. She pulled off her jacket and threw it over Vegeta’s shoulders for what little good it would do for him. She looked around, hoping to hear or see signs of the ambulance she had called. “Helps on the way,” she reassured him. “You just hang in there.”

“Get out of here,” he said and weakly tried to shove her away, but she was easily able to resist him; his strength gone, his hand slicked red with his own blood.

“Stop moving!” she snapped frantically, scared that he’d bleed out before help could arrive. She gently took his hand and placed it back on his belly, pressing her own hands over his to help apply pressure. Vegeta shuddered, a tiny, pained sound escaping his lips. 

“Ow…”

“Sorry!” she apologized, feeling helpless. Vegeta looked in a bad way, anemic and on the verge of passing out. She was terrified, and furious at him.

He looked up at her sickly, trying to muster a glare but it only made him look more wretched than intimidating. “This is gang territory,” Vegeta hissed at her. “Get the hell out now, Bulma. I can’t protect you like this.”

“You can’t even protect yourself!” she snapped back, her voice shrill, far more scared for his life than of where they were. She instantly regretted her words, knowing they were hash, but she was scared for both of them. “What _happened_?”

Vegeta started coughing. He doubled over, wheezing with pain and struggling for air. Bulma tried her best to support him. Finally he dropped back against the fountain, gasping up at the stars. “I fought Zarbon,” Vegeta said, his voice weak.

“I saw,” Bulma reminded him, keeping her hands firmly on his belly. “I was there, remember?”

Vegeta shook his head. “No, not the school match. A _real_ fight. No rules.” He glanced at her, giving her a lopsided smile. “To the death.”

Bulma felt all the blood drain from her face, and if he wasn’t already at death’s door, she would have slapped him something fierce. “Are you INSANE?!”

Vegeta laughed, then winced, groaning. “Well… I didn’t know about the death part until it was too late. Ha ha, I’m such a fool, thinking he’d fight fair… I almost had him, Bulma. You should have seen me, I was finally beating him, and then…”

“He stabbed you,” she guessed.

Vegeta sneered at the memory. “Yes. Didn’t think… he’d have the balls… They won’t have anything… on my father now…” Vegeta said, each word becoming harder and more painful for him to say. His eyes fluttered closed, and Bulma was worried he was losing consciousness.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” she begged anxiously. She wanted to tap his face to keep him with her, but didn’t want to remove her hands from his wound. To compromise, she leaned in and kissed him to keep his attention.

Vegeta moaned softly against her lips, from the kiss or pain she couldn’t tell. She felt a couple tears slip down her cheeks as she watched Vegeta struggle to stay awake, dying under her hands. She screwed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to scream at the world in frustration and despair. 

He gave her a weak, pained smile, his head tilting to the side. “You’re mad at me,” he accused. 

Bulma’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m not.” She paused, looking at him, and rethought her answer. “Well, maybe.” She felt her frustration bubble out of her, unable to be contained. “Why did you have to fight Zarbon?! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Vegeta finally settled on plonking his head against hers, unable to hold it up any longer. “Oh… Because he told me to… Threatened to hurt you if I didn’t show up…”

Bulma gritted her teeth as tears filled her vision and fell down her face. Once again, she was the reason Vegeta was suffering. “You could have asked for help!” she said, half mad, half devastated. “Why didn’t you call for an ambulance if you were able to call me, dumbass?”

“I’d rather confess to you than to some first responder,” Vegeta wheezed, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious. He raised a trembling hand, trying to touch her cheek. “To be honest, I’m… I’m surprised I’m even still breathing. Thought I only had minutes left… It’s kinda ruining my dramatic farewell…” He tried to laugh but sucked in a pained breath, shuddering, and his hand fell to his side. “Besides, this is gang territory…” he muttered, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limp.

“Vegeta…. _Vegeta_!” Bulma sobbed. He groaned, still conscious, but barely. Bulma was about the grab her phone and demand where the damn ambulance was when she heard footsteps and a voice approach.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, I know, I’m so sorry, Sir. It’ll never happen again…”

Bulma squinted at the tall figure walking hurriedly in their direction. As whoever-it-was passed a street lamp she got a clear view of their face. Despite looking beat up, it was unrecognizably Zarbon. Bulma’s blood went cold, her breathing hitching in panic.

Zarbon was talking to someone on the phone. “It was just a stomach wound, Sir, there’s a good chance he’s still…” Zarbon’s voice trailed off and he came to a stop, spotting her over Vegeta’s body. Bulma could feel her hands shake as their eyes locked. She didn’t know if she was more terrified or furious. Okay, that was a lie, she was definitely more terrified. Vegeta was dying beneath her hands, and the one responsible had returned to the scene of the crime, with her helpless to protect herself or Vegeta from him.

Zarbon made an agitated sound and tried to cover his mouth as he spoke into the phone receiver. “Sir, the girl’s here.”

Zarbon listened to a response before he agreed to something and turned off his phone, putting it in his pocket. Bulma felt her heart rate skyrocket as Zarbon continued walking straight towards her. She glanced at Vegeta but he was still out of it, his ragged breathing the only indication that he wasn’t already dead.

Bulma was all on her own. She pulled out her phone, waving it ominously at Zarbon as though it were a weapon. “Stay back. I’ve already called the police and an ambulance,” she threatened. 

Zarbon ignored her and kept coming until he was right on top of her. He was bruised up, his lip bleeding, his knuckles swollen, and he wasn’t putting all his weight on his left leg. Vegeta might be dying, but he’d certainly managed to bang Zarbon up thoroughly before having taken a knife to the gut. Zarbon looked down at Vegeta with a sneer of distaste, then his gaze moved to Bulma. “You wasted your breath,” he told her coldly. “They won’t come out here. It’s too dangerous.”

Bulma reeled back as realization slapped her in the face. _That’s_ what Vegeta had meant about this being gang territory. _That’s_ why she hadn’t heard an ambulance siren by now. _That’s_ what the dispatcher had tried to tell her before she hung up. Help _wasn’t coming_. This part of town was so rife with crime that it wasn’t even safe for first responders.

Zarbon crouched down next to Vegeta and reached for him.

“Don’t touch him!” Bulma shrieked, shifting to put herself between Zarbon and Vegeta. 

Zarbon shoved her away. “Cut that out, I’m here to help.”

“Like _hell_ , you’re the reason he’s like this!” she protested shrilly.

Zarbon didn’t seem concerned by the accusation. “I have _orders_ to get him to safety. So unless _you_ would like to carry him…?” he suggested caustically.

Bulma’s mouth opened then snapped shut. She knew she had no chance of carrying Vegeta, who was some 160 pounds of pure muscle weight, and she also had no way of stopping Zarbon if he was going to brute force his way about, so she really had no choice but to go along with what he said. And as much as she hated to admit it, Zarbon was her only hope of getting Vegeta to medical aid. 

When she made no further arguments, Zarbon grabbed Vegeta up and heaved the boy over his shoulder, grunting in pain as he did so from the injuries. Vegeta moaned, but lay limply, barely conscious. Bulma picked up Vegeta’s cell and uncertainly followed after Zarbon. She glanced back, seeing how much blood was left where Vegeta had been. It was a miracle he was still alive.

They didn’t walk far until they reached Zarbon’s black convertible. Zarbon threw Vegeta unceremoniously in the back seat and Bulma climbed in after. Zarbon didn’t say anything about her tagging along, and she only prayed he wasn’t luring them somewhere discreet to dispose of them; she kept her phone close in case she had to make a desperate call. As Zarbon sped off, Bulma cradled Vegeta’s head in her lap, trying to hold his body still and watch his breathing, her hands hugged about him, pressing down on his wound. They finally pulled up to the emergency entrance of a hospital, and Zarbon delivered Vegeta onto a stretcher as if dropping off a slab of meat, then he sped off without another look back as Bulma followed the stretcher inside. 

The hospital staff rushed Vegeta in to surgery and she wasn’t allowed in. A kind nurse offered her some water and asked who she was in relation to Vegeta. Bulma caught sight of the ring on her finger, slicked red from Vegeta’s blood that covered her hands.

“I’m his wife,” she said, and she didn’t feel the least bit bad for lying. The nurse comforted her and found her a quiet place to sit and fill out paperwork. The hours ticked by and Bulma was left with nothing better to do than cry and think of all the horrible things that could go wrong in surgery.

She reached for her phone to try and distract herself, but her hand found Vegeta’s cell first. She turned on the screen to check the time and saw the picture he had set as his background. It was her, pulling at her eye and sticking out her tongue. She remembered sending the photo to him when she’d first given him his phone. That time felt like a life ago now. Would they ever get any more of those times together?

Bulma felt new tears well in her eyes. She cried for a long, long time, hugging his phone to her chest.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

“Mrs. Briefs?” Someone shook her shoulder gently and Bulma startled awake. 

“Y-yes?” she asked, disorientated, not realizing she’d fallen asleep.

“Good news,” the same kind nurse from before told her. “Your husband is stable and out of surgery. We’re just setting him up in a room now and you’ll be able to visit him shortly, although you should know he’ll sleep for a while yet from the anesthesia.”

Bulma felt tears of relief well up in her eyes as she nodded appreciatively to the nurse. “Thank you,” she croaked.

The nurse smiled, nodded and patted her arm. “I’ll get you soon,” the nurse promised and left.

Bulma clutched her chest, elated, exhausted, reeling in disbelief. She laughed softly, even as a few tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. Vegeta was alive, he was going to _live_.

It was only then she noticed she wasn’t alone in the waiting room. 

In her peripheral vision she saw someone sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. Bulma looked and saw a young man, slender and not very tall. Something about him was incredibly imposing, intense, and it disturbed her to think he’d slipped in here while she slept. His pale hair was slicked back until it lay flat against his head, the ends tinted a pale purple. He wore a white and purple tracksuit, the outfit brand new, pristine, and he wore it as a king would wear robes. His eyes were small and narrow, piercing, and staring _right at her_.

He gave her a small, benign smile. 

Bulma resisted the urge to shudder. 

“I heard Vegeta’s _wife_ was here,” the young man said, his tone droll as he eyed her over. “I must say, I never expected him to marry so young, or so well… or to take on a _woman’s_ name.”

Bulma felt her throat go dry. _He knew_. Whoever this guy was, he knew she wasn’t really Vegeta’s wife. Bulma swallowed nervously, unsure what to say. 

The man saw her discomfort and laughed, the sound as gentle as shattered glass. “Your secret is safe with me, _Miss_ Briefs.” He even knew her name. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said and stood up. He approached her and held out a hand. “I’m Vegeta’s employer. Most people call me Frieza. You may do the same.”

Bulma felt a sickly cold wash over her, freezing her to the spot. She stared at the offered hand, then down at her own. Hers were still covered in blood and she was suddenly thankful for the excuse to not have to shake his hand. Frieza grimaced and retracted his hand.

“Sorry,” she said, although she wasn’t. “…I uh, wasn’t aware Vegeta had a job,” she added, trying to sound confident, or at least not as scared as she felt.

Frieza gave her a condescending smile. “Think of it more as an internship.”

Bulma didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t about to discuss the nuances of whether being in a gang was considered a career or not. She looked at the door, hoping the nurse would return soon and spare her this awkward meeting. Frieza followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “You know dear, Vegeta is one of my favorite interns. He’s very smart, and resourceful, and obedient, with some careful cajoling. I find him _most_ useful. I’d hate to think anything, or anyone, might distract him from his goals.”

Bulma felt herself starting to fume, Frieza invoking an ire in her that was quickly quashing her fear. For a man who supposedly ran the biggest gang about, he appeared to be nothing more than a well spoken bully. “His goals, or yours?” she spat back.

Frieza grinned. “Oh, are they not mutual? Pity. Perhaps you’d be good enough to speak to him on my behalf about that?”

“Why can’t you deliver your own message?” Bulma asked, annoyed and confused as to why he was speaking to her _at all_.

“I don’t have that luxury. I’m only his employer, not his ‘wife’,” Frieza grinned at her, looking almost amused. “I can only visit during regular hours. Besides, I have other business to attend to. But I’ll give you a message, and if you happen to remember to pass it along to Vegeta, I’d be most obliged.” He smiled at her coldly, and when she only glared at him, he continued. “Please relay my most sincerest apologies to Vegeta; Zarbon broke his leash but I’ll be sure to see that he’s properly disciplined for his actions. But do tell Vegeta that I’ve tolerated his little rebellious tantrum long enough. I expect results and I expect them soon, or else I’m going to have to take away one of his ‘toys’.”

Bulma might not have understood the intricacies of his message, but she knew a threat when she heard one. “Take away his toys? You sound more like his father than his employer,” she replied sarcastically. 

Frieza splayed his hands and shrugged. “I’ve often fulfilled both roles. Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Just one final question, Miss Briefs.”

“Yes?”

“That would be Briefs of Capsule Corp, would it not?”

Bulma swallowed dryly. “It would.”

Frieza’s eyes sparkled. “Delightful. Then I suppose it would be a useless gesture on my part to offer to pay for Vegeta’s medical bill?”

Bulma narrowed her gaze. “It would. We can handle it. Vegeta doesn’t need anything _you_ could give him.”

Frieza laughed again, flashing his teeth. “If only that were true… I can see why he’s enamored with you. But when you get bored of him, and crush his heart, I’ll be there to pick him back up and give him purpose once again. Then we’ll see who can give him what he needs.”

Bulma felt her hands shaking with such fury she was barely able to refrain herself from slapping Frieza right across the face. She’d never hated anyone so much and so quickly in her life as she loathed this man right now.

“Good evening, Miss Briefs of Capsule Corporation. Don’t forget my message,” Frieza said with a smirk, and he left her in the waiting room. 

Bulma watched the hallway he vanished down for a long while to ensure that he was really gone. Her mind was spinning, analyzing and agonizing over everything he’d told her. She glanced back at the door where the nurse had vanished, and when it didn’t seem she would return any time soon, Bulma pulled out her phone and dialed Raditz’s number. 

He answered on the third ring. She hadn’t expected him to, so she was caught off guard when he answered. “Bulma? What’s up, Lovely?”

“Raditz…” Bulma wasn’t sure what to say, having thought she’d only be leaving a voicemail. “I, uh… Did I wake you?”

“Nah, love, I’m a night owl, and always available for a pretty lady. What can I do for you?”

“Oh… I just needed your, um, expertise.”

There was a pregnant pause on the line. Then, hesitantly, he asked, “About what?”

Bulma looked down at the blood on her hands. She really needed to clean up before seeing Vegeta. “About the people you used to associate with.”

“Oh,” Raditz replied, sounding disappointed. There was another pause, then he laughed sheepishly. “So this isn’t a booty call?”

Bulma felt a flush creep up her face. “I, _what_? NO. WHAT THE HELL, RADITZ?!”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Bulma. A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“No!” She screamed back hotly. “I’m hanging up and deleting your number, you pervert!”

“Bulma, please,” Raditz tried to cajole her. “I jest, I jest.”

Bulma fumed, stewing over the nerve of Raditz. She would have to have serious words with Goku about his cousin later. “You’re sick, never mind why I called. Good night!”

“Bulma, I’m sorry. C’mon, what did you want to ask me? I’m all ears. I promise, I swear on Lucy.”

“Who?”

“The pink teddy bear my granny gave me.”

Bulma sighed, giving in, Raditz’s ridiculous sense of humor wearing her down, and she really did need someone to talk to. “Ugh, _fine_. I just… I wanted to know what it would mean if someone who was in a gang said they were going to take away someone’s ‘toy’.”

Raditz hummed, thinking. “Well, it would depend on the context and person speaking, but it sounds like a threat to me.”

“Well I figured at least _that_ out,” she snapped back scathingly, thinking this had been a huge waste of time.

“Hey, look babe, you’re not giving me much to work with here,” Raditz defended. “Why don’t you tell me what’s actually going on? …Are, are you in some kind of trouble?” He paused, his voice taking on a more concerned edge. “Bulma, did someone threaten you?”

“No, not me, exactly…” Bulma trailed off, feeling the stress of the night weigh on her. She really ought to wash her hands. 

“Bulma, what happened? Where are you?” he asked, sounding more worried now.

His rising concern spiked her own as she realized she didn’t know the answer to that question. Bulma felt unbidden tears start to rise and she looked around, trying to find some sign of what hospital she was in. “I … I don’t know. A hospital, but it’s not the one I know.”

“You’re in _hospital_?”

“No, n-not _me_ …Vegeta.” She glanced around until she saw a pen with the hospital logo on it. “Um, it’s Mercy West apparently.”

“Shit, Bulma. Why are you guys in _this_ part of town?”

She sniffed as tears started falling. “They s-stabbed Vegeta.”

“Jesus… _What happened_?”

Bulma started to explain, and once she started, she couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled from her mouth, falling as easily as her tears. She relayed the whole story to Raditz, telling him about the stabbing, Vegeta’s involvement with the Icejin, and now Frieza’s message.

“Damn… You fell in the deep end of a big pool of trouble, didn’t you?” Radtiz said when she was done.

Bulma nodded, still crying softly. “Wh-what does it mean, Raditz? What should I do?”

“You have to tell him,” Raditz said adamantly. “That message isn’t something you can keep from Vegeta, not without repercussions. These aren’t some wanna-be thugs we’re talking about, not like the group I was with. You’re talking about _Frieza_ here. He’s hardcore _organized_ criminal activity. He’s _the_ mob king. And from the sounds of it, he just threatened to kill someone close to Vegeta if your boy doesn’t get back in line.”

Bulma felt as if an ice cold hand gripped her throat, chills raking her nerves, numbing her. There were only two people close to Vegeta, his father being one, and she the other. 

“Bulma, this is dangerous,” Raditz continued, his voice serious. “Your life could be in danger just for associating with the Prince.”

“The who?” Bulma stuttered, barely able to keep up with Raditz, her mind still reeling from the implication of what Frieza’s message had meant.

“The Prince. _Vegeta_ ,” Raditz said, exasperated. “Didn’t you know? That’s his street name. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together earlier. He’s one of Frieza’s favorites. Zarbon too, although that guy’s probably a dead man walking after making an attempt on Vegeta’s life without Frieza’s okay. You just have to mention their names to anyone in the know, and people will crap their pants. You’re messing around with the _key players_ of the Icejin, love, and no one does that and walks away unscathed.”

Bulma tried to gather her strength despite the overwhelming fear she felt. “Well, what are you saying, that I just leave? I’m not going to abandon him, Raditz. I love him!” she blurted before she could stop herself. She put a hand to her mouth, shocked at her admission. She hadn’t told that to anyone other than Vegeta.

Raditz was silent on the other end of the line before sighing. “…. _Damn_. I really missed my chance, didn’t I?”

“With what?”

“Nothing, love. You’ve got enough on your plate,” he replied, his tone a little sad. “Okay, you stay put, I’m coming over. I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said tiredly. “But I’ll be seeing Vegeta soon, and they won’t let you in until visiting hours if you’re not immediate family.”

“Then how did _you_ manage?” Raditz asked her, surprised.

Bulma cleared her throat. “I um… maybe embellished the truth a little.”

Raditz chuckled. “That’s my girl. Well, I’ll visit later then. Are you gonna be okay? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep,” she admitted, trying to keep her tone lighthearted. _And to see Vegeta_. 

“Alright. Hang in there, babe. I’ll be there when I can.” And with that, Raditz hung up, and Bulma was once again alone. She put her phone away, noticing her hands were trembling. She got up and went to the bathroom to scrub the blood off. As the water ran red in the sink, she was reminded of the time Vegeta had treated her wounds. Her hands had been shaking then too. He had told her it was the shock and that she should eat something.

Bulma looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked pale, ashen, her eyes swollen from crying, and there was blood smeared on her face and all over her clothes. She looked like she belonged in a horror movie. Bulma wished she’d asked Raditz to bring a change of clothes, but doubted he’d have anything she could wear. She scrubbed at her face to clean herself up.

When she came out of the bathroom she only had to wait a few minutes before the nurse finally collected her and took her to Vegeta’s room.

Vegeta was lying in a hospital bed, sound asleep. He looked pale and sickly, but his breathing was deep and even. Bulma felt an overwhelming relief just being able to see him and be close to him again. She pulled up a chair and took Vegeta’s limp hand between her own. She ran her fingers over his skin, her eyes locked to his face, taking in every detail of him, grateful she could admire him and know that it wasn’t going to be for the last time.

 _I love you,_ he’d said on the phone _._ He’d also thought it was the last thing he was ever going tosay to her. As soon as he was well enough, Bulma was going to have to kick his ass for the emotional stress he’d put her under.

Bulma rested her head on the bed and let her eyes fall closed as she listened to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, each breath he took a soothing melody that soon lulled her into sleep. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

....Art by [batcreditcard/Anne Elizabeth](https://twitter.com/batcreditcard)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/batcreditcardAneeElizabeth_RaditzLucy_zpsapfjfcyg.jpg.html)

 

And here's [my own](https://twitter.com/LadyVegeets) awkward attempt, yeah, there's a reason why I stick to writing lol.

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/LadyVegeets_RaditzLucy01_zpsmze9eb8u.jpg.html)

 

  **An** : Good night, sweet Prince and Heiress <3

… I really adore Raditz’s antics here XD

So, I feel compelled to say to you guys who review **,** you guys are f*cking rad, I super enjoyed reading all your comments for the last chapter!! ^_^ I love hearing everyone’s reactions and theories and things they liked best and what resonated with them. Keep those reviews coming! 

Also, AlienaChan on twitter drew an adorable little fanart piece of Bulma feeding Vegeta. GalacticShark17 continues to draw Vegebul fanart for this and other stories too. You should take a gander at their accounts if you get the chance. I also might be getting some fanart from a certain someone for my Girl Next Door fanfic… keep your fingers crossed, I know I am!! ;) 

If anyone else wants to send lovely detailed reviews or fanart my way, that’s the surest way to my cold, black, Vegeetery heart. Make me hurt, baby, I’m ready. >:)

 

GUYS - It’s almost Bulma’s birthday, Aug 18th. How should we celebrate? International DBZ Day or something?


	23. 23 - A promise

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.23 - Promise**

 

“Oh, shit…”

Bulma came awake, blinking open her eyes at the expletive. She sat up stiffly and looked at the source of the swearing. Vegeta had a hand raised to his brow as if fighting off a headache. His eyes were still sunken and he looked pale, but no where near as white as he’d appeared while bleeding out by the fountain. And he was up, which was a very good sign.

“Vegeta!” Bulma exclaimed, her heart leaping to see him awake. She threw herself at him, hugging him about the neck and sobbing joyfully. “You scared me half to death, you asshole!”

“Ow,” Vegeta complained as she squeezed him in her tight embrace. 

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized, hastily letting him go. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

He blinked, frowning, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Am I…  flying?”

Bulma stared at him in alarm. “…What?” she asked, sure she hadn’t heard him right.

Vegeta reached out as if trying to grab the air, frowning harder when he was unable to. “Or is the room spinning…?”

Bulma opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes darted to the drip that was in his arm. She looked back at Vegeta, cocking a brow in concern, and held up her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

His eyes swiveled to her hand and he tried focusing, but his gaze ended up drifting past her, towards the doorway. He grunted and tried to push himself out of bed.

“Whoa, hey, you need to keep still,” Bulma insisted, pushing him back down, worried about his injuries.

“I need to find her,” he grunted, too weak to fight her, letting himself be pushed back against the bed.

“Find who?” Bulma asked, confused.

“Bulma,” Vegeta replied. Bulma’s eyes widened dramatically. Vegeta continued, not noticing her reaction. “She was here a moment ago,” he said, sounding agitated. “She was really worried, and… I think she was crying. I think I fucked up…”

Bulma watched him, stunned, as he talked about her without realizing it. She waved her hand in front of his face, but his eyes didn’t track the movement. She let her hand drop, sitting back, and a small smile tugged at her mouth. “Oh my god… you’re _doped_.”

“What? Tchhh. Am _not_ ,” he replied testily, his words slurring as if drunk.

Bulma snickered, leaning in and putting a finger to Vegeta’s chest. “You _totally_ are.”

Vegeta looked at her offending finger, frowning at it in puzzlement. Then he looked right at her and asked, “Have you seen her?” he asked. Bulma had to resist laughing; he was totally serious. “She’s got this really unique blue hair and eyes, and pale skin, and she’s small, and weak, and almost never shuts up, and she’s really pretty… like you, actually,” he frowned at her, almost suspicious, but then he pressed on, looking around. “She was just here, I’m sure she was…”

Bulma felt her face grow hot, not sure if she should be flattered or offended. She shook her head in amazement. “You must be doped. You’d never say I looked pretty if you were sober.”

“I wouldn’t?” he asked, only half listening, still looking around the room.

“Nope,” Bulma said, giving him an amused half smile. “You’d probably say I look like shit.”

Vegeta turned his attention back on her. He frowned at her as he leaned in to examining her face, staring fiercely enough that Bulma could feel herself blushed harder. Finally, Vegeta said, “You’re right. You look like shit.”

Bulma scowled at him, her fists clenching. “Ohhh, boy, are you lucky you’re injured right now, or I’d slap you so har-”

“You’re tired,” he said bluntly, ignoring her fuming. He reached out and pointed at the bags under her eyes. “See? Here. You’re not taking good care of yourself. You should sleep, eat something, then you’ll feel better and not look so terrible.”

Bulma opened her mouth then closed it, her mind imploding. Is… is that what he meant, when he said she looked terrible? That he was _concerned_? Wow, of _course_ that’s what he meant, she couldn’t believe she’d never put that together before. 

“…You are such an idiot,” Bulma stammered at him, half furious, half embarrassed at his candid assessment. Vegeta didn’t seem to care, already having lost interest in her, his drug-addled mind unable to stay focused on one thing for long.

He tried to push himself up again. The effort only caused him to grab his gut with a grunt of pain. “Ow…”

“Don’t do that!” Bulma chastised, pushing him back against his pillows. “You got stabbed, don’t you remember? You need to take it easy.” Vegeta gave an aggravated sigh as she pushed him back down. He really must have been exhausted to not put up any resistance. He looked to where she was touching her hand on his chest, and he brought  his fingers up to hers, touching her hand. He saw the ring she wore.

He frowned at the sight of it. “Oh… my mother had a ring just like this.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “I know, dummy.”

Vegeta’s frown deepened and he looked suddenly upset. “…Fuck,” he said, his tone raw.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, half concerned, half amused; Vegeta was being so expressive, and she couldn’t help to find it endearing. Boy, was Vegeta going to hate himself when the pain killers wore off.

“I was going to give her that ring… It was the only thing I had to give her…” he said, looking genuinely dismayed.

“Her?” she asked. “You mean Bulma?”

Vegeta nodded miserably.

Bulma felt her heart constrict. “Vegeta, you idiot. You don’t have to give me, um, _her_ anything.”

Vegeta shook his head woefully. “No, you wouldn’t understand. I had this _one_ thing to give her, this one valuable possession from the only good person I ever knew in my life, and I was going to give it to Bulma because she’s the only other good person I’ve ever known…”

Bulma felt as though the air had been knocked out of her. “Sh-she is?” Bulma asked softly, barely able to form the words. 

“Jesus, of course she is,” Vegeta insisted adamantly, scowling intensely. “For some reason I can’t fathom, Bulma trusts me and believes in me. D’you’ve any idea how fucking rare that is? No ones ever trusted me, but _she_ does. I don’t know how the fuck I managed to get her… Or how I haven’t fucked it up yet, or why she hasn’t changed her mind…”

Bulma didn’t know what to say in the face of such raw honesty, and she felt a little guilty that Vegeta was pouring his heart out to her, knowing full well he did so because he was drugged. Bulma reached up to gently touch his cheek, bringing their heads together, touching brows. “Hey, it’s okay. She’s not going to change her mind, Vegeta. And you _did_ give her your mother’s ring, you dumb-dumb. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh,” he said in a small voice, looking puzzled. “So… I didn’t chicken out?”

Bulma smirked, amused. Just how long had he been planning on giving her that ring, working himself up to it? “No, you didn’t chicken out, well, not exactly. I mean, you _did_ put it on her when she was unconscious,” she pointed out, teasingly. When Vegeta made a sour face, Bulma hurriedly added, “But when she tried to return it, you didn’t take it back, so, that’s something, right? And she’s kept it on since.”

Vegeta’s mouth curled into a lopsided smile. “Huh. Does that mean she likes it?” he asked her.

Bulma’s smile softened, her heart hurting as it beat rapidly in her chest. She nodded against his brow, her fingers curling against his cheek. “Yeah, Vegeta, it’s beautiful. She loves it.”

She felt him relax against her. “Well, good. Of course she does,” he replied, looking pleased. Then his smile faded, and he tried to sit upright again, grunting in pain.

“Would you stop that!” Bulma protested, pushing him back down once again.

“Ugh, this place is _vile_ ,” Vegeta complained, looking about the room distrustfully. Bulma wondered if he was still experiencing the spins. He seemed less inclined to be pushed down this time, his hands fisting. “I need to find her. I think she’s in trouble.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. _You’re_ the one in trouble. You’re hurt, remember?”

“Am I?” he asked, looking down at himself. Vegeta’s chest was bare, allowing him to see the large bandage wrapped around his middle. His eyes widened in surprise. “Huh. Shit. What happened?”

Bulma shook her head, amazed at his cluelessness. He was on some good drugs. “Zarbon stabbed you, and I, er, that is, Bulma barely got to your stupid ass in time.”

Vegeta frowned and Bulma watched as he tried to remember getting stabbed. She eyed him carefully, and wondered if it would be considered taking advantage of him to try and press him for answers while he was high on morphine or whatever drugs they were feeding him.

Well, Bulma was never good at being patient. “Vegeta?” she asked slyly. “Do you remember what you said to m-, um, Bulma? On the phone?”

“Huh?” he asked, still distracted looking at his bandaged abdonmen.

“What you said to Bulma; you called her after you were stabbed, remember? You said,” Bulma hesitated, looking at him, but feeling shy she glanced away. “You said you loved her.”

Vegeta prodded his bandages. “I did? That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

Bulma’s eyes darted to his, flashing with hurt. “So… you didn’t mean it?”

Vegeta grunted. “I didn’t say _that_.”

Bulma scowled, growing impatient. “Well, do you love her or not?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he snapped at her, looking at her with irritation in his black eyes. He pushed up and Bulma was too slow to stop him. Vegeta levered himself to the edge of the bed and, still weak and drugged, lost his balance. He fell onto the floor with a giant crash, pulling his sheets and the IV down with him.

“Oh-oh-ow, shit,” he groaned, curling up miserably on the ground.

Bulma hurried to him, shaking her head in exasperation. “You are such a fucking pain, do you know that?” she chastised. 

“As are _you_ , keeping me here against my will!” he snarled back, his words vicious but his voice weak. He tried to push up on trembling arms. “I have to find her, damnit! I can’t lose her. I can’t go back to that life, not now.”

Bulma sighed and tried to lever Vegeta up. “Stop being melodramatic. She’s right here you big dolt.”

Vegeta let her help him up and with some grunting, a lot of swearing and heavy lifting, they finally managed to get Vegeta back into bed. Bulma prayed he hadn’t torn open his wound. She checked his bandage but didn’t see any blood seeping through, not yet anyway. Vegeta was gritting his teeth, panting, the effort of getting back into bed having taxed what little strength he had. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, scrubbing at his face in frustration. He looked so wretched, Bulma couldn’t help pitying him.

“Why don’t you sleep. She’ll be back by then,” Bulma suggested, hoping he might recognize her after some rest.

Vegeta shook his head. “No. Where’s my phone?”

Bulma pulled his cell out of her pocket and handed it to him. He frowned at it, having trouble focusing on the screen. He finally figured out how to access her number and he brought the phone to his ear, his expression tight as it rang.

Bulma’s phone started vibrating. She left the room and stood out in the hallway by his door before answering. “Hello?”

“Bulma?”

“Yeah?”

There was a soft, relieved sigh on the phone. Bulma smirked and peered into the room. Vegeta had his eyes closed, already looking more relaxed to hear from her. What an idiot.

“Are you safe?” He asked her.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Did he still think they were at the fountain?

“Nothing, never mind. As long as you’re safe.”

“I am.”

“…”

“Vegeta?” she said softly.

“What?”

“Do you love me?” she asked, staring at the pale lime hospital wall, her heart in her throat. She had to know. She had to know if he’d meant what he said, that his confession had been real, not just something he’d said because he thought he was dying.

“ _What_?” he asked, his voice strangled.

“It’s a simple question,” Bulma replied, looking down, her voice small, hurt. “ _I_ love _you_.”

Vegeta didn’t reply immediately. Worried, Bulma looked back into the room and saw he was staring up at the ceiling, his expression tight. Then he rolled on his side, huffing in agitation.

“I already said I did, didn’t I? Why are you making me say it again?”

Bulma clutched her chest, feeling a few happy tears of relief swell in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, smiling. “Because I want to hear it again. Please?”

“No.”

“Please, Vegeta?”

“ _No._ ”

“What, why not?” she huffed.

“I’m tired. Quit bugging me.”

“You called _me_ , you jerk!” Bulma shouted back, putting a fist on her hip, having a good mind to storm back into his room and punch him.

Vegeta laughed softly, tiredly. “You’re such a prissy bitch.”

“Well you’re a stuck-up asshole!”

“Nosy woman.”

“Asshole! So help me God, Vegeta, I’m going to come over there an-“

“I love you, Bulma.”

Bulma’s mouth snapped shut as she fumed and blushed at the same time. “Th-that’s not fair, you cheater!”

“Mmm…” he replied sleepily, amused at her indignation.

Bulma looked in the room and saw the phone resting on the pillow by Vegeta’s head. His eyes were closed, and his breathing had evened out. He was almost asleep. Bulma sighed. “I love you too, Vegeta,” she said softly, staring at him hopelessly.

When she was sure he’d fallen asleep, she went in and turned off his phone. Exhausted, she curled up in the chair by his bed and tried to get more sleep for herself.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Her dreams was disturbed by the sensation of someone tugging at her clothes. Half asleep, Bulma didn’t struggle as her shirt was lifted off. She made an unhappy sound, not wanting to wake up yet, still weary.

Whoever was undressing her stopped. Happy that she was no longer being disrupted, Bulma started to slip back into sleep when she heard an odd, gargling sound. She frowned. The sound persisted, and she felt compelled to open her eyes. Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight in front of her.

Both Raditz and Vegeta were before her, but she never could have imagined the scene that was unfolding before her. Vegeta’s hands were wrapped around Raditz’s throat, choking Raditz to his knees. Raditz was clawing desperately at Vegeta’s hands, trying to pry the injured boy off even as his knees buckled, choking and struggling for air. Vegeta watched Raditz struggle, a murderous, unforgiving expression on his face.

Panicking, Bulma leapt to her feet and placed her hands on Vegeta’s bulging arms. “Vegeta, stop it!”

“He was _undressing you_ ,” Vegeta said, his voice unnervingly calm. He didn’t even look at her, his ferocious gaze only on Raditz as his fingers squeezed tighter. Raditz gaped for air.

“And that’s reason enough to _murder him_?!” Bulma shouted back as she watched Raditz’s face turn people in Vegeta’s grip. “He’s a friend, don’t you remember him?”

“So that makes it okay for him to molest you while you sleep?” Vegeta asked, his gaze swinging on to her, his black eyes seething. Dark rings still lined his eyes from anemia and exhaustion, adding a demented quality to his expression. As he glared at her, Raditz still suffocated in his grip.

“Vegeta, let him _go_!” Bulma demanded furiously.

Vegeta sneered but finally complied, letting go of Raditz’s throat. The older boy dropped to his knees with a ragged gasp, sucking in much needed air. He started coughing hard, desperately trying to fill his lungs. 

Bulma glared at Vegeta. His eyes met hers angrily, his gaze focused, his attitude different from earlier. He was back to his normal, if not even crankier, self. She noticed the IV drip was still on the floor from when he’d knocked it down previously, and it occurred to her she’d never called a nurse to set up a new drip. That meant Vegeta was unmedicated, no longer loopy from drugs, but he was also likely in a lot of pain.

“Vegeta, lie down, you need to heal,” she said, trying to soften her tone and the atmosphere with it.

Vegeta ignored her, one hand clutching his gut while he turned to glare down at the coughing boy on the floor. He frowned at Raditz disdainfully. “He’s the one from the party,” Vegeta spat, finally recognizing Raditz. 

“Yes, ‘Raditz’,” Bulma reminded him, crouching down by Raditz to pat the older boy on the back and make sure he was going to live. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

Raditz’s coughing was subsiding, his color returning to normal. “Yeah,” he croaked hoarsely. “Peachy.” Raditz glanced up at Vegeta with an irritated look. “Dude, she was covered in blood. I was just-” he tried to explain, but stopped when another coughing fit overtook him.

Vegeta curled his lip in displeasure, but didn’t reply. Bulma saw that there was sweat on his temples, and his face had turned an ashen pallor. The hand that wasn’t clutching his gut had reached out to steady himself on the end of the bed. Vegeta had severely overextended himself trying to protect her from her ‘molester’. He looked like he was going to pass out at any moment. Bulma shook her head, not sure if she should be impressed or exasperated that Vegeta was constantly pushing his limits for her safety. Either way, she couldn’t really stay mad at him, not when he thought he’d been safeguarding her.

“Lie down, you big oaf. Raditz can be trusted,” she tried to reassure Vegeta, and glanced back at Raditz. He gave her an apologetic look, and held up his jacket that was on the floor from where he’d dropped it after Vegeta had jumped him. Bulma saw Raditz had only meant to put her in cleaner clothing, although she’d have to talk to him later about undressing her while she slept. Vegeta wasn’t wrong to think that wasn’t okay, even if Raditz had been acting out of kind intentions. But she didn’t need to say any of that in front of Vegeta and get him more worked up.

Bulma took the jacket and started to slip it on. She heard an aggravated sound and looked up to see Vegeta glaring at her incredulously, appalled she was putting on Raditz’s clothing. “What?” she asked him, vexed. “What _else_ am I supposed to put on?”

Vegeta reached out and snatched the jacket out of her hands, throwing it back at Raditz unceremoniously. He then snatched up the blanket on the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders even though he still looked like he was going to be sick from the effort of moving about.

“Vegeta, I can’t wear this outside,” Bulma protested softly.

“Why, are you planning on leaving?” he asked her, and something about the way he asked, his tone oddly possessively, made her blush furiously. She looked down, unable to meet his or Raditz’s gaze. Vegeta was right, she wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Raditz, who had finally recovered from the attack, staggered to his feet. “Well,” he croaked, rubbing his neck. “It’s been _lovely_ visiting, but I know when I’m not wanted.”

Bulma glanced up at him, feeling guilty but not sure why. “You’re going?” she asked.

Raditz nodded, his expression unusually hard. “Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” he looked at Vegeta, his brows pulling down, his mouth thinning. “I guess I was worried for nothing.” He looked back at her. “So, have you told him yet?”

Vegeta’s head whipped up, eyes narrowing. “Told me _what_?”

Bulma’s hand clutched the blanket tighter about her, giving Raditz an annoyed look. “How could I? He _just_ woke up.”

“Told me WHAT?” Vegeta insisted, in no mood to be talked about.

Raditz looked over at him, ignoring Bulma’s glare. “That Frieza paid your girl a visit while you were dying on her. And that he had a message for you.”

Vegeta’s expression darkened considerably, his eyes turning cold and darting to Bulma, but she looked away, unable to face him.

The three of them stood awkwardly, silent. Raditz pulled his jacket back on, breaking the silence first. “Alright then. Bulma, do you need anything before I go?” he asked her. Bulma shook her head, looking at her feet. “Fine. Well… I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Raditz looked back at Vegeta. “That is, if the Icejin don’t get to you first.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at Raditz. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Raditz gave an apathetic shrug. “Just sayin’. If she was _my_ girl, I wouldn’t be getting her roped up in all this ugly gang business, that’s for sure.”

“Raditz!” Bulma hissed, startled by his antagonistic words. It was unlike him to be so confrontational, he was usually so easy going. Vegeta glowered at him, clenching his teeth, although she suspected it was partly in pain as much as in agitation.

“Yeah yeah, I’m leaving,” Raditz said, waving at them over his shoulder as he left the hospital room.

Bulma watched Raditz leave, a myriad of emotions swirling inside her. She looked back to Vegeta who was still leaning against the bed, sweating, his face pinched in pain and irritation. He looked away from the door to turn his glare back onto her.

“What message?” Vegeta asked again, his voice low. 

Bulma sighed, pushing her hair back, letting her gaze slip away. “You need to lie down first.”

Vegeta must have been hurting because he didn’t protest, and got back into bed. He scowled at her until she told him everything that had happened. His expression grew darker, closing off as she relayed Frieza’s message. Bulma felt her heart squeeze in trepidation, nervous about how Vegeta would react. After all, every time they’d talked seriously about the Icejin, it always came back to one thing: revenge at any cost.

Vegeta lay on his back, one hand still on his bandaged stomach while he glared up at the ceiling, his jaw working in agitation. When she finished telling him everything, he asked, “Is that all?”

Bulma nodded. “Vegeta-”

“You should go home,” he cut her off. “You need to rest, change.”

“Change? I’M NOT EVEN WEARING ANYTHING THANKS TO YOU,” she indicated the blanket hotly. Vegeta glanced at her, then back at the floor where her bloody shirt lay that Raditz had removed. Bulma followed his eyes and scowled, guessing he meant for her to put it back on. Before she could protest that line of thinking, he spoke again.

“Bulma, go home,” he repeated. “You look as awful as I feel.”

She felt as if she’d been kneed in the gut. He was shutting her out. She shook her head stubbornly. “No, I’m _fine_ , I’m staying here.”

Vegeta looked away from her with a scowl. “I don’t want you here,” he said callously. “I need some privacy.”

Bulma sucked in a sharp breath. “Y-you don’t mean that…”

“Go _home_ Bulma, or I’ll have them throw you out for impersonating as my wife.”

Bulma felt the ground drop out from beneath her. Her lip quivered, her hands fisting in the her blanket. She knew Vegeta was upset, he had every right to be, but that he was pushing her away yet again, after all the progress they’d made… it was too much. Bulma got up, her stomach churning. “Fine, Vegeta, I’ll go. But you can’t push me away forever. Not anymore. I’m already involved whether you like it or not, so shutting me out isn’t going to help,” she told him hotly as she grabbed her bloody shirt and angrily pulled it back on. “And what’s more, I’m tired of us only being together when it’s convenient for you, you dumb, stupid, selfish jerk!”

She felt tears build, and she turned to go before Vegeta could see them, but she was too late. He tried to sit up, wincing in pain as he did, and reached for her. “Bulma, wait-”

She didn’t. She was too upset, too furious to face him after he’d cut her so deeply. She hurried to leave the room but ran into someone standing in the doorway, blocking her exit. Bulma wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up, surprised to see Yamcha there, Goku and the others standing behind him.

“Bulma?” Yamcha asked, his expression twisting in concern when he saw her tears and blood soaked outfit. “Raditz called us and said you were…”

Bulma shook her head, unable to explain the situation. She pushed past Yamcha and the others, fleeing down the hall as Yamcha glared into Vegeta’s room.

“I guess she still has a thing for assholes who make her cry,” Yamcha said sarcastically.

Vegeta ignored him, staring furiously at the wall.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma went home and took a long, hot shower, calming down at the water washed away her dirt and anger down the drain. After she changed, she packed a bag for Vegeta, putting in some clothes and his gameboy. She was sorting through his games when she came across a box with a blue haired female character on the front. Curious, Bulma opened it up, but there was no game inside. Odd. She was about to put the box back on the shelf when something caught her eye. She tipped the box upside down, and out drifted a long strand of blue hair. Her hair.

Bulma stared at it, numb. How, why did he have a strand of her hair? She suddenly recalled one of their first meetings, when she’d given him her hair to prove her natural color to him. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets afterwards. Had he kept her hair, all that time?

She didn’t know what to think. Vegeta blew so hot and cold, endearing one minute, cold and dismissive the next. It was so frustrating and tiresome and Bulma was feeling ragged from the emotional rollercoaster he’d been tugging her along.

Bulma heard a noise downstairs. She put the hair back in the game box and headed downstairs to investigate. When she reached the front of the house she saw her parents coming inside with their luggage. “Mama? Papa?” They weren’t supposed to back for a couple weeks yet.

“Honey, are you okay?” Mrs. Briefs asked, coming over and sweeping Bulma up in a hug. “Is Vegeta still in the hospital, poor pet?”

Bulma’s eyes widened, surprised, and she looked over her mother’s shoulder to her father.

“The health insurance company called,” Dr. Briefs explained, giving his daughter a kind smile. “It seems the two of you can’t stay out of trouble for long, does it? First you in the hospital, now Vegeta? We decided we needed to cut our vacation short and check in on you two kiddos before you got yourselves killed.”

Bulma felt a lump in her throat, and she swallowed back tears. She hugged her mother, then her father, grateful for their support. Bulma told them what had happened - well, a very brief, watered down version of events so as not to alarm them too much, and thankfully they didn’t ask too many questions. They were simply happy to know that Vegeta was recovering from his ‘accident’.

They gave her a ride back to the hospital and let her go in alone, sensing she needed some alone time with Vegeta. 

Bulma walked through the hospital slowly, her feet dragging, dreading to see Vegeta after their fight. She wasn’t sure she could take his cold shoulder routine much longer. As she approached his room, she heard voices. Curious, Bulma slowed and peeped through the door, astounded at what she saw. Vegeta was sitting up in bedand talking to, of all people, Goku.

“Oh, hey Bulma!” Goku said cheerily, spotting her in the doorway. “C’mon in.”

Bulma gave Goku a weak smile, then looked at Vegeta. He was looking better, less pale and the dark lines under his eyes were almost gone. There were empty trays of food nearby, indicating he’d eaten since she’d left. He glanced her way, eyeing her over, then looked away.

Goku seemed to take her arrival as his cue to leave. He got up, patting Vegeta on the shoulder which Vegeta took amazingly well. Goku walked over to her, smiling warmly. “Don’t look so worried, Bulma. The doctor checked up on him while you were gone. Vegeta’s healing A-OK and should be home in a couple days,” he informed her.

Bulma nodded her head, glad for the update, although her mind still boggled to be receiving the news from Goku. Vegeta always bitched about Goku and barely tolerated the boy, to think the two of them had been hanging out all this time was… incredible. “Thanks, Son.”

Goku smiled and left them alone. Bulma stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment before finally stepping inside, putting Vegeta’s bag on the chair nearby his bed. “I brought you some clothes and games,” she announced.

Vegeta was still looking away, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Bulma couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or feeling. As usual. She felt an uncomfortable pain swell inside her, gripping her  throat tightly. 

“If you don’t want me to stay…” she started to say, but her throat closed up before she could finish. She hated that she was so emotional around him.

Without warning, Vegeta reached out and took her wrist. He held her in his grip, his brow furrowing, his mouth tight. He was still looking away when he spoke to her. “… Sorry.”

Bulma stared at him in shock, disbelief washing over her. “What?” she asked, stunned. Vegeta had _apologized_?

He finally looked up at her, and at last she could see his eyes. They looked forlorn. “Don’t go.”

Bulma thought her knees might give out. She nodded and sank down on the side of the bed. He looked away, but not before she saw the relief wash over him. He looked troubled, struggling to find words to express himself with. He was still holding her hand, and his thumb started rubbing circles on her wrist. It sent little thrills of pleasure through her that she tried hard to ignore, still upset at him. “What’s going on, Vegeta?” she asked quietly, gently encouraging him to open up.

Vegeta frowned down at his blankets. When at last he spoke, his tone was sad. “I’m running out of time.”

“For what?” Bulma asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Vegeta shook his head, frustrated. “For Frieza. Either I make a move, or he will. And if Frieza moves first, we’re all fucked.” He looked back at her, his expression twisting, becoming pained. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. He could kill you, my father, your parents, or someone else we know just for the hell of it, and he’d get away with it too. Worse, he could take you somewhere nobody could reach, and threaten to harm you so that he could manipulate me and your family into doing whatever he wanted…” Vegeta looked away, scowling, furious at the power Frieza held, and his inability to fight it. “I can’t let that happen. I’d die before I let him touch you.”

Bulma felt hopelessness overcome her. There was that word again, _die_. Her hand fisted in his grip, and she yanked it away angrily, barely resisting slapping him. “Did I ask you to die for me? Because I don’t remember doing that,” she snapped.

He looked at her, surprised by her vehemence. Then he scowled. “You’re not supposed to ask. A man protects what’s important to him, no matter what.”

Bulma thumped her fists against her thighs, trying to hold on to her rage, because if she didn’t she felt like she was going to drown in hopelessness. “And a woman can’t?” she shouted. “I don’t want you to _die_ because of me. I’d never forgive you. I’d never get over it.”

“Yes you would,” he insisted calmly. “You’re strong.”

The brutality of his words hit her hard. Bulma started crying, hating him passionately in that moment. He wasn’t considering the impact his death would have on her. For him, his death was a non issue, a simple, logical answer to a troubling problem. For her, his death was the end of her world. Life could never be the same for her without Vegeta in it, not now.

She hit his shoulder with her tiny fist, and he didn’t try to stop her. “You idiot! I don’t want to be strong without you!” she cried out, sobbing. “I don’t want you to protect me by dying, I want you to protect me by living!” She hit him again and again until she lost all her strength and fell against him, crying inconsolably. He brought his arms up and hugged her, but he didn’t say the words she so desperately wanted to hear that would reassure her. Was he really so determined to die?

“Y-you said you loved me,” she sobbed. She felt him stiffen in embarrassment, but she pressed on. “I-if you love me, promise me one thing. Promise you won’t throw your life away for revenge, or for me.”

“I can’t do that, Bulma.”

“V-Vegeta!”

He made an agitated sound. “Damnit, Bulma, what would you have me do? I’m done living as their pawn, and I’m done with them using people for their benefit. If I could wish for immortality to defeat them I would, but this is the real world. If fighting them to the death will keep you safe, then so be it.”

“Do you think I care more about my safety if it means your death? Do you not even remember how you ended up in this hospital?” she said, laughing darkly. “To hell with my safety!”

Vegeta’s hands tightened on her. “Exactly. That’s why I have to keep your stupid ass safe, because you’re going to get yourself in trouble, you don’t use your damn head around me, despite your genius.”

Bulma fisted her own hands, frustrated. “I am a genius,” she replied, her voice thick with anger and tears. “And as a genius, I’m telling you that you’re not even _trying_!” she shouted. “Promise me you’ll at least _try_ to stay alive. There has to be a way we can take them out that won’t end in some suicidal blood bath.”

“Bulma…”

“Promise me!” She screamed, pulling back and looking at him, her face wet with tears, her eyes wild with the fear of losing him. “ _Think_ , Vegeta. You’re not alone anymore, and you’re much stronger than when you lived with them. We can _defeat_ them. Wouldn’t _that_ be the ultimate victory, to beat them and _survive_ , to live a happy life, free of them?” She saw Vegeta consider her words, scowling in thought. Daring to hope, Bulma pressed on. “Surely they have a weakness? They think they have the upper hand, that they know you, well you know them too. There must be something we can exploit, or do, or negotiate, some way we can be rid of them safely, without sacrificing our lives in the process?”

Vegeta looked at her, his face warring with emotions, a spark in his eyes she’d never seen before. He glanced at the chair Goku had been occupying earlier, and something changed in his demeanor. His posture straightened, his eyes growing determined. He took her head in his palms, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “Alright,” he said softly. “I promise.”

Bulma’s breath hitched. Part of her didn’t believe him, terrified he was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear. “R-really?”

He gave her a serious look and nodded. “That idiot friend of yours said there’s a big MMA tournament coming up. I know the one. Ginyu will be there.”

Bulma sniffed. “Who?”

“Ginyu,” Vegeta repeated. “He’s what you’d call Icejin elite, and probably the strongest person I know, after Frieza. He competes and wins all those events. I can make a stand against the Icejin safely there, they won’t be able to do anything underhanded, not with so many witnesses.”

Bulma frowned, confused. “I don’t understand. How will fighting Ginyu in an MMA tournament help us?”

“A couple reasons,” Vegeta explained, starting to smile. “First of all, the Icejins bet a lot of money at these events, so we can take advantage of that somehow. And second of all, when I beat his best fighter, Frieza will know I’m coming for him next. If I can put on a good enough show of strength, he might choose to make a deal, rather than risk a power struggle.”

Bulma grimaced. “That… doesn’t sound very safe.”

“Tch, nothing about Frieza is safe,” Vegeta said scathingly. He frowned and thought for a while. “We’ll place a bet,” he finally said, coming up with an idea. “We’ll use your family’s wealth to place a huge bet on me,” he suggested, flashing her an uncertain look. When she didn’t protest the use of her family funds, he continued, encouraged. “The odds will be against me, I didn’t do well in last year’s tournament, so if I win this year, the payout would be huge. Too huge, Frieza won’t be able to pay. We’ll use the debt to ransom freedom for me and my father.”

Bulma wasn’t sure she was as enthusiastic about the plan as Vegeta was, it sounded like there were still too many holes and unknowns. But they had time to iron out the details, and what was more important was that, for the first time, Vegeta was talking positively about the future, including her in his plans, and considering a scenario where he didn’t have to die in order to win his freedom and get his revenge. Bulma smiled and nodded at him in support. “I know you can do it, _we_ can do it. I know you can win.”

Vegeta pressed his brow to hers, and his mouth twisted up in a cruel smirk. “I’ll do more than win. I’ll _crush_ them.” 

Bulma felt a flicker of fear, not for herself, but for the Icejin. She pitied whoever was going to try and stand in Vegeta’s way. She smiled and pressed her nose into his cheek, and his expression instantly softened, thoughts of vengeance fading as he turned his attention wholly on her. He stroked her cheek, his gaze growing affectionate.

“I dreamt you were gone,” he admitted softly.

Bulma smiled, pressing against him. “I know. You were looking hard for me.”

He gave her a puzzled look, surprised she knew. Before he could ask questions, she pressed her lips to his, and he soon kissed her back. They curled up together on the bed, getting comfortable and making out, letting their passions sweep everything else away, until all that remained was them, and a promise Bulma was determined she would make Vegeta keep.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 **AN** : Anne Elizabeth, aka batcreditcard, drew Raditz and Lucy on twitter if you guys wanna check it out. ;) (or see the previous chapter on AO3)

My job has been ramping up a little lately, so chapter updates might take an extra day or two to come out, so sorry about that.

On an unrelated note, I signed up for Tumblr and have no idea what I’m doing there, but I guess you can follow me if you want. I dunno if I’ll use it much tho, twitter seems much nicer, TBH. I also finally got around to getting an Archive of our Own account too, so I’ll be putting up my fics there as well as here, thanks to some of your suggestions from a while back ;)


	24. 24 - Beach Party

I did not plan this, but somehow I’m posting this chapter, about Bulma’s birthday, in time for her actual frickin’ birthday. Hell yeah! Happy August 18th, Briefs! 

In celebration, have some **LEMON**. This is the FULL, **UNCENSORED** version **. Enjoy!**

 

 **Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.24 - Beach Party**

 

Vegeta was forced to stay in the hospital over the weekend to recover from his surgery, and Bulma stayed with him. He was given the all clear to return home so long as he promised to take it easy, a promise Bulma knew Vegeta had little intention of keeping, so she took it upon herself to ensure he didn’t train himself into an early grave, mother-henning him much to his agitation.

What really surprised her was when Goku started showing up at her house hanging out with them. Vegeta didn’t seem happy about Goku’s presence, but shockingly he also didn’t tell Goku to fuck off, somehow tolerating Son’s presence while the three of them watched movies or played games. When Vegeta’s gut wound was mostly healed and Bulma was no longer able to deter Vegeta from the gym, he and Goku started working out together for hours at a time.

“What’s with you and Goku?” she finally asked Vegeta one day after Goku had left, the two having spent most of a Saturday afternoon in the gym.

Vegeta shrugged. “MMA tournament in the fall,” he said nonchalantly as if that explained everything.

If that wasn’t strange enough, she also caught Vegeta speaking to her father one evening. When she asked him what it was about, Vegeta just told her to mind her own business. Bulma wasn’t in the habit of doing that, so she hunted her father down to ask him instead.

“Vegeta and me?” Dr. Briefs asked, thinking. “Oh yes. Good boy, that. He said something about wanting to continue being responsible for you, asked me if I had an issue with that. Said if I minded, that he would move out.”

“He _what_?” Bulma asked, utterly stunned. 

Dr. Briefs nodded. “Yes. I just told the lad that it was your choice who you’d let take care of you, not mine, and that Vegeta always has a home here so long as he’s respectful.” Dr. Briefs nodded, and then gave her an odd look. “You two are being safe, aren’t you, dear?”

Bulma had never been more mortified in her life. She stormed out of her father’s office, bright red, stomping all the way to Vegeta who was, at the time, heading to the bathroom to take a shower. 

He saw her coming at him furiously, and crossed his arms, steeling himself against her tirade. “What?”

“You spoke to my _father_ about us?” she hissed at him.

Vegeta huffed, looking away. “So what if I did?”

“Are you _crazy_? I don’t need him knowing about us!”

Vegeta gave her a reproachful look. “Why? Are you ashamed?” he asked her.

Bulma balked. “I, what, _no_ , it’s just-”

Vegeta waved her excuse away impatiently. “Look, I wasn’t going to sneak around the house under your parents’ noses, pretending like nothing was going on between us. I respect them too much for that.”

Bulma was caught off guard by his response. She narrowed her eyes, trying to hold on to her anger. “Well, what’s this nonsense about you _leaving_ if he didn’t approve?”

Vegeta’s cheeks actually pinkened, and he turned his head to the side, huffing in agitation. “I wasn’t going to leave _you_ , just the house.”

Bulma felt her heart do a funny skip at his words. Hearing that he wouldn’t leave her made her feel far too giddy than was probably healthy. “Oh yeah? And just _where_ would you have gone, genius? Back to Zarbon’s?”

Vegeta scowled at her from the corner of his eye. “I have other options.”

“What other options?” she pressed. Vegeta wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular, he terrified most people and most people didn’t trust him enough to invite him into their home. Who would be crazy or kind enough to house Vegeta if- “Oh my god, _Goku_?” she asked, putting it together, stunned.

Vegeta’s expression turned petulant, and that he didn’t disagree with her was answer enough.

Bulma’s eyebrows nearly buried themselves in her hairline. “ _You_ would have gone to live with _Goku_?”

“As a last resort,” Vegeta replied scathingly, also clearly not liking the idea.

Bulma couldn’t believe it. If Dr. Briefs had disapproved of their relationship, Vegeta would have boarded up with Goku just to keep dating her? _Goku_ ; Vegeta could barely stand the guy.

“Wow, you _must_ love me,” Bulma said, awed.

Vegeta glared at her, turning even more red at the four letter word.

Bulma’s expression softened. She looked Vegeta over, changing the subject for his benefit. “How’s your stomach.”

“Fine,” he huffed, still embarrassed.

Bulma arched a brow. “Really? How much weight are you lifting?”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, looking at her curiously. “Back to what I was lifting before, if that’s what you mean,” Vegeta replied carefully.

Bulma smirked. “So, more than capable of lifting me?”

Vegeta arched a brow, then caught on to her meaning, and smirked. “Easily. And for an extended period of time.”

“Good,” Bulma purred, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. He returned the kiss and picked her up, carrying her into the bathroom with him, locking the door behind them.

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

It was the last day of school before summer break. They were all sat in the school cafeteria, talking about their plans and how much homework they wouldn’t be doing until the last minute. Bulma arrived late, having gone to fetch something from her locker.

“I have something for you guys!” she announced dramatically, holding up a bag. From within she produced little colorful pouches, each one a different color, and handed them out, one for each of them.

“What’s this?” Chi-Chi asked as she opened her pouch and peaked inside.

“Friendship bracelets,” Bulma said proudly. “And before you ask, yes, I made them. By hand. This way, we’ll all be connected over the break, even if we’re not together. Neat, huh?”

“ _Jewelry_?” Krillin asked, pulling out his band skeptically.

Bulma shot him an irritated look. “It’s not jewelry, numbskull, it’s a band. Everyone wears them, they’re totally in right now. So shut and put it on. And _you’re welcome._ ”

Krillin balked and hurriedly put his friendship band on as everyone else guffawed and thanked Bulma for the gift. She gave Vegeta a dark blue pouch that had a silver cord, different from the others. “This one’s for you,” she said as she sat next to him, giving him a stunning smile.

Vegeta took the pouch and silently opened it. He pulled out a simple blue band, woven from very fine, soft leather instead of cotton as the others were. It also had a gold clasp instead of strings for the tie, and was long, twice as long as everyone else, meant to be worn wrapped twice around the wrist. It was clear Bulma had put a lot more effort and money into his than the others. Vegeta frowned. 

“It seems…” he started to say, but trailed off when he looked up and saw that everyone was watching him expectantly, including Bulma. He started to turn pink. “What?” he snapped at them all.

Tien snorted and Goku elbowed him into silence. “Gosh, Vegeta, yours is so much nicer than ours. Isn’t there something you want to say to Bulma, for putting so much time and effort into your gift?”

Everyone turned to look at Goku as if he’d just sprouted blonde hair. Even Vegeta gave Goku an incredulous look. “Wh-what?” he choked, finding it hard to wrap his head about the fact that Goku was _coaching_ him on how to say ‘thank you’. 

Bulma laughed, not the least offended, c’mon, like she was expecting Vegeta to thank her? _Please_. “Here, you idiot,” she said, and she took the band from Vegeta’s fingers, wrapping it about his left wrist, joining the clasp. “You wear it like this, see? There, perfect.”

Vegeta stared at the band on his wrist, his expression carefully guarded, knowing there was a table of onlookers. He frowned, keeping his eyes lowered and started eating his lunch, ignoring everyone else. The table, seeing that there would be no reaction, also went back to their own lunches, continuing where their previous conversations had been left off.

Bulma was raising a forkful of food to her mouth when she felt something bump against her leg. Surprised, she cast Vegeta a look. He flashed her a surreptitious glance before returning his focus to his lunch, and again pressed his leg to hers in silent thanks.

Bulma smiled to herself, her heart hammering giddily.

And then summer vacation was upon them. It quickly became the best summer she’d ever had. Most mornings she woke up to find Vegeta next to her, often touching her and initiating some of the most fantastic morning sex of her life. Afterwards, she’d drift back to sleep while Vegeta would go and train in the gym, more and more frequently with Goku who would join them around mid-morning. The three of them (sometimes four if Chi-Chi came too) would eat lunch together. Then the boys would train more while Bulma would chat with Chi-Chi, or play scientist with her father in his lab. In the evenings, she and Vegeta would curl up in front of a movie or game until one of them would ultimately say or do something that would lead to more naughty and fantastic sex.

All summer she wore his ring, and he wore her band.

If either of them were worried about Frieza, they didn’t speak of it.

One day, Bulma found Vegeta eyeing her intently, more so than he usually did, and not in a ‘I’m going to have you against the wall’ kind of way. He was observing her clinically, and after a whole day of suffering his stares, Bulma finally snapped. “WHAT? Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, exasperated, as they sat on the couch attempting to watch a show.

“Do you need your back rubbed?” he replied.

Well, _that_ came out of nowhere. “Uh, what?”

“Do you need your back rubbed?” he repeated calmly.

She frowned. It was an odd offer; he didn’t usually ask to touch her, he just _did_. “Um… sure,” she said. A free massage was a free massage, right?

Vegeta moved closer to her and putting his hand on her back. He started rubbing her in gentle circles, concentrating on her lower back. It took her a few seconds, but suddenly it dawned on her what he was doing, the memory of the last time he’d done this for her returning, back when they’d gone camping and she’d suffered from bad cramps.

“Like this, right?” he asked.

Bulma blushed. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Um, yes, but… I’m not, uh… It’s not _that_ time, if that’s what you’re doing.” 

He paused, looking at her astutely. “It’s been a month.”

Bulma’s eyes widened. Had he been _keeping track_? It was both sweet and horrendously embarrassing. “Uh, right, but… I decided to take the pill continuously to skip my, um, _that_ , so as not to ruin our summer together.”

He arched a brow. “You can do that?”

She nodded.

“So you’re not… You won’t be…?” he asked.

Bulma, still blushing, shook her head. “Nope. It’s all clear sailing.”

His expression changed, his eyes growing darker. “So we can…?”

Bulma nodded, feeling a smirk give way. “Yep.”

Vegeta’s face split into a wolfish grin, and he leaned in, tugging her in about her waist. “My little genius,” he complimented, and kissed her deeply.

 

* * *

x~x~x

 

“So what are we doing for your birthday?” Chi-Chi asked Bulma. They were in the height of summer vacation, the two girls enjoying some iced tea and watching as Goku and Vegeta sparred in Bulma’s backyard. 

At Chi-Chi’s question, Vegeta’s head whipped around, so surprised by Chi-Chi’s words that he didn’t block Goku’s well aimed punch. Vegeta stumbled back as it hit him. He swore and rubbed his jaw, glaring at Goku.

“Sorry, Vegeta!” Goku apologized. In retaliation, Vegeta kneed him, catching Goku off guard right in the stomach. Goku doubled over at the surprise attack. Vegeta gave him a small, satisfied smirk, then left Goku to wheeze in the yard by himself, stalking over to the girls on the patio.

He locked his gaze on Bulma, his brow furrowing. “It’s your birthday?”

Bulma blushed. Chi-Chi’s eyes widened. “You _didn’t know_? It’s her birthday _next week_.” Chi-Chi looked at Bulma, astounded. “You didn’t _tell_ him?”

Bulma shrugged, embarrassed. She hadn’t found a way to bring up her birthday without it sounding like she was fishing for gifts, and to be honest, she was also a little anxious to mention her birthday to Vegeta at all. He didn’t seem the type to care too much about sentimental celebrations, so she was going to let it slide by. If she had no expectations, then she couldn’t be disappointed, could she?

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, still glaring at Bulma. He looked annoyed that she’d kept this a secret from him.

“Are you having a party?” Goku asked, clueless to the tension, jogging over to join them.

Chi-Chi clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, why not the beach! We haven’t been in forever! What do you think, Bulma? Beach party?” 

Bulma grinned, liking the idea, especially the part where Vegeta would be in swimming trunks. She looked over at him, but her hopes were dashed when she saw his stormy face.

“Absolutely not,” he said flatly.

“Aw, c’mon Vegeta, it’ll be fun!” Goku cajoled. 

“As fun as a hole in the chest,” Vegeta replied snarkily.

“But everyone will be there!” Goku retaliated. 

“Is _Raditz_ going to be there?” Vegeta growled. Bulma’s eyes widened. Goku also looked surprised.

“Oh, well, um, he’s usually invited…” Goku said uncertainly.

“No,” Vegeta refused once more. Bulma felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, surprised Vegeta was still holding a grudge against Raditz.

“Well, it’s not _your_ birthday,” Chi-Chi told Vegeta stubbornly, frowning at him, clearly not liking Vegeta’s attitude. “It would do you both some good to get out of the house this summer, you know.”

Vegeta sneered and looked away. “I have no inclination to leave this place before the tournament,” he said with finality, and it suddenly occurred to Bulma that they hadn’t been outside the house, other than for school, ever since Vegeta’s latest trip to the hospital. She hadn’t really noticed, too busy enjoying the recent quality time with Vegeta to think about heading outside. But now it occurred to her that Vegeta might have had ulterior motives to stay in, other than the constant sex, training, food and video games. Staying home meant staying unobserved, unfollowed, unmolested. Was he worried that if they left the house, the Icejin would target them?

“You know, we could take the chopper,” Bulma suggested carefully.

Chi-Chi squealed in excitement. “Do you think your dad would let us, even after you lost the scooter?”

“Of course,” Bulma said confidently. “It’s my birthday after all. And it would be the fastest way to the beach.” _And no one could easily follow us_ _in the air_.

Vegeta sensed her ulterior motives, looking at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze contemplative.

“Don’t forget, the beach is great training,” Goku pitched in, slapping Vegeta on the shoulder. “There’s the sand, which is like running in super dense gravity! And there’s swimming, and volleyball, and rock climbing on the cliffs… There’s a lot to do there, so you don’t have to feel like you’d be lying around being lazy all day.”

Vegeta shrugged off Goku’s hand, but Bulma could see he was considering his words. They were all looking at him expectantly, hoping he’d agree to the beach party “… I don’t have swim wear,” Vegeta finally admitted, seeing their hopeful expressions and scowling at them.

“Oh, easily remedied! We’ll go shopping!” Chi-Chi exclaimed eagerly.

“Tch, did you not just hear me say I didn’t want to go out?” Vegeta snapped at her irritably.

Chi-Chi pursed her lips in mighty indignation. “Well, _we’ll_ go, _you_ can stay here,” she huffed, indicating Goku and Bulma in her ‘we’.

Something flashed in Vegeta’s gaze, and his hand reached out, grabbing Bulma’s wrist. “She stays here with me,” he said hotly, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if by accident.

Chi-Chi’s eyes widened in surprise. Bulma felt her cheeks redden, embarrassed by Vegeta’s possessive display. “Vegeta,” she chided softly. Normally if someone tried to tell her what to do, Bulma would let them know where they could shove it, but she knew Vegeta’s outcry only stemmed from a real concern for her safety. Frieza had threatened her, and Vegeta was still worried he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect her, but that didn’t make Vegeta’s outcry any less embarrassing in front of her friends.

Vegeta seemed to realize that too, blushing and looking away. He let her arm go as if it burned him, and he folded his arms defensively. “Fine, do whatever you like. I’m going to train in the gym.” And with that he left the three of them there as he stomped inside, humiliated.

Goku laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you worry, Bulma. I’ll pick up some swimming trunks for Vegeta. We’ll have him beach ready in time for your birthday.”

“Yeah, and I know you have like, a _million_ bikinis as it is,” Chi-Chi added, her lips pursed, still pissed at Vegeta. “So I suppose you don’t _need_ to go shopping if you don’t want to. But if you do, let me know. And I’ll also call everyone and tell them about the beach party, leave the planning to me.”

“Thanks,” Bulma said gratefully. Her friends left and Bulma was on her own for the day. When Vegeta finished training, he showered and came into her room as was their usual routine, but his face was still stormy.

He sat down next to her on the couch, picking up a game controller and half heartedly shot at people online.

“So… What do you do at a birthday party?” He finally asked her.

Bulma looked at him, trying to keep the surprise off her face. When he scowled harder at the screen she figured she’d failed at being subtle. “You know… the usual stuff,” she said.

His brow furrowed further and Bulma got the feeling he didn’t know. Had he never had a birthday party? She swallowed back her sadness and rested her cheek against his arm, deciding to try again. “We play games, open presents, eat cake and just, have fun with your friends.”

“Presents?” he asked tersely. 

“Mmhm. The birthday person usually receives gifts from friends and family,” she explained, as if teaching a five year old.

“Tch, I know _that_ ,” he snapped at her irritably.

Bulma pressed her lips together, contrite. She paused, then add, “But presents are just a token, really. The main thing about a birthday is just being together and having fun. That’s the best present someone can get.”

Vegeta scoffed. He was still glaring at the video game, but she could tell by the haphazard way he was playing that his heart wasn’t into it. After a few minutes he asked, “Is there anything you’re hoping to get?”

Bulma tried to feign nonchalance. “Not really.” She glanced up at him. “Just to spend it with you.”

“Hn,” he said, his voice gruff but soft. Bulma smiled to herself, and her heart melted when he wrapped his arm around her, shifting to accommodate her against him as he got more serious about playing his game.

The week quickly passed. Soon it was the 18th, Bulma’s birthday. All her friends gathered at the Brief’s estate, ooh and awing over the large, privately owned helicopter that would transport them to the beach. If Frieza had someone watching the house to follow Bulma and Vegeta, they were going to have a hell of a time keeping up with a chopper.

Vegeta’s expression was surly as he stood in the backyard, waiting to pile in, his expression only getting worse when he spotted both Yamcha and Raditz among the group, but surprisingly he said nothing. When Chi-Chi stole the helicopter seat by Bulma before he could, Vegeta sat next to Goku and stared out the window. Bulma saw Goku strike up a somewhat one-sided conversation with Vegeta, but she couldn’t hear what they discussed, the whirr of the chopper blades drowning their words out. 

“Happy Birthday!” Chi-Chi squealed in her ear, drawing her attention away from Vegeta as the girl gave her a big hug. Soon the noise from the helicopter and wind made it too difficult to converse as the helicopter roared up into the air, taking off, and they spent the rest of the trip grinning and watching the scenery peel by.

Less than an hour later and they were on the coast. It was a warm day, the sea breeze providing cool relief from the heat. They found a good spot to roll out their picnic blankets on the sand and soon everyone started stripping down to their swimwear, everyone except Goku and Vegeta. 

“I’ve got Vegeta’s trunks here,” Goku explained, holding up a bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “We’ll go change and be back in a few minutes.” He waved at them and patted Vegeta on the back, shepherding him away. Vegeta allowed himself to be corralled, but not before he glared warningly at Raditz.

Bulma and Chi-Chi waved them off. When they were out of sight, Chi-Chi turned on her friend. “Alright, spill it, what is _with_ those two hanging out lately?”

“You’re asking _me_? I was going to ask _you_ ,” Bulma exclaimed, equally bemused by the sudden and strange friendship, if that’s even what you could call whatever Vegeta and Goku had struck up recently. It was the most baffling thing. Goku appeared friendly, as he always was with everyone, but Vegeta appeared to barely tolerate Goku’s presence, and yet he did nothing to dissuade the friendship either. It was odd to say the least, and more odd that they refused to explain the partnership beyond _we’re training for the tournament_. 

The other boys grabbed a frisbee and ran out into the water to start playing. Chi-Chi and Bulma finished stripping down. Chi-Chi was wearing a cute blue bikini, while Bulma wore a red one. She fidgeted with her straps, looking to see if Vegeta was on his way back yet. She worried her lip; would Vegeta like her outfit?

“You look great,” Chi-Chi told her with a smirk.

Bulma blushed and swept her hand through her hair. “Of course I do,” she replied, not feeling nearly as confident as she tried to sound. They watched the boys play frisbee in the water. Chi-Chi  eventually lay down to get some sun, putting on a dark pair of glasses. Bulma joined her, figuring lying down was better than anxiously looking for Vegeta every thirty seconds. The sun seeped into her skin, warming her, lulling her, and she finally started to relax.

“Heads up!” Raditz called. Bulma sat up in time to see the frisbee coming right for her. She yelped in alarm, throwing her hands up to shield her face.

The impact never came. She peeled open her eyes and saw a large hand holding the frisbee scant inches from her face. Vegeta smirked down at her.

“This is becoming a habit.”

Bulma couldn’t respond, too busy trying not to have a heart attack. Vegeta turned and threw the frisbee back to the boys in the water, then glanced at her once more. His eyes dragged over her, taking in her nearly-naked form and bright red bikini. Bulma had always felt confident in most things she wore, even bath suits, but suddenly under Vegeta’s scrutiny, she felt like she wasn’t wearing enough clothing.

And neither was he. Vegeta was only dressed in a pair of swimming trunks. They were simple, sporty, black with black trim, but they showed off Vegeta’s fantastic build; strong legs, a narrow, ribbed belly, and a powerful chest and arms. His feet were bare, and somehow even they looked sexy, his toes scrunching in the sand. Vegeta stood confidently, undaunted about his scars, even his newest one, a long, ragged tear by his belly button, freshly healed from his duel with Zarbon. Vegeta was all hard, muscled, virile youth, roughed and broken with abuse, but stronger for it, and _damn_ did he look sexy as hell, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Even next to all her athletic friends, Vegeta’s physique stood out, and she drank it all in like a guzzling lamb, hungry for more.

He arched a brow at her, amusement still tugging at his mouth. Then he glanced at Chi-Chi, his smile vanishing, and he nudged her foot. “The clown needs your help.”

“With what?” Chi-Chi huffed, pulling down her sunglasses to glare at Vegeta, not pleased with his comment about her boyfriend.

Vegeta shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“Ugh,” Chi-Chi sighed dramatically. She got up and stomped off after Goku.

Vegeta took her spot, sitting down by Bulma’s side. Bulma sat up straighter, too self conscious to sprawl out with Vegeta _right there_.

“Hey, you two, wanna play?” Chiaotzu called to them, holding up the frisbee.

Vegeta leaned in, whispering against the soft curl of her ear. “If you go bouncing around with them in _that_ , I’m going to have to throw you over my knee and spank you.”

Bulma went as red as her bikini. She shook her head and gave Chiaotzu an apologetic wave. When the game continued without them, she threw Vegeta a look that she hoped was somewhat intimidating. “You need to _behave_.”

“Why?”

“We’re in public!”

“You’re the one who chose to wear _that_ in public, not me.”

“It’s a beach, ‘ _this_ ’ is totally acceptable attire,” Bulma protested. “Besides, it’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me.”

“I am being nice, I’m _here_ , aren’t I?” Vegeta replied calmly. “And I haven’t pummeled your ex or that piece of filth _Raditz_ just for looking at you. Yet.”

“Being a civil human being isn’t the same as being nice to _me,_ ” she stressed.

Vegeta huffed. He put his hands on her narrow waist and before she could protest, picked her up, pulling her in between his legs so that he could spoon her from behind. He looped his large arms around her middle, hugging her close, and rested his chin on her shoulder. “There. _Satisfied_?”

Bulma smiled, placing her hands over his. “Mm, it’s a start,” she drawled, trying not to sound as giddy as she felt.

“Tch.”

They sat, cuddled up, and watched the frisbee game until Goku and Chi-Chi returned. “Presents time!” Chi-Chi declared with a grin, carrying a big box, Goku carrying a similar one. The boys in the water abandoned their game to come over sit down in a circle, ready to watch Bulma open the presents they’d all gotten her.

Bulma received some lovely gifts - clothing, books, some bath salts, and strawberry flavored candies. She opened her last gift, some new workbench tools, and thanked all her friends for their generosity. “This is great. Thanks everyone, you’re too much! Is there cake?” she asked hopefully.

“Wait, what about Vegeta,” Goku said, pointing out that Vegeta hadn’t given Bulma anything. Bulma had also noticed, but then, she hadn’t expected anything from him. She’d been purposefully vague on about gifts so that Vegeta wouldn’t feel obliged to buy her any. She truly was happy just to have him there, and his mother’s ring was by far the most precious thing she’d ever received and probably ever would.

“I didn’t get her anything,” Vegeta said flatly.

Bulma was about to change the topic when Goku beat her to it. “Yes you did,” he insisted, looking at Vegeta, confused. “What about the-”

Vegeta glared at Goku so hard Bulma was surprised Goku didn’t vaporize. Goku shut his mouth, then grinned, abashed, realizing he was blowing Vegeta’s surprise. “Oops.” 

Bulma looked at Vegeta, dumbstruck. Wait, he _had_ gotten her something? 

Vegeta made an agitated sound. He grabbed her hand and stood up, pulling her with him, and he marched them away from the others until the group were just dots in the distance.

“Vegeta? What’s wrong?” Bulma asked as she followed after him.

Vegeta finally stopped when they reached a part of the beach where there was no one around. He let her hand go, turning to face her, but didn’t look her in the eye. “Nothing. I just didn’t want a goddamn audience.”

Bulma gave him a small smile, clasping her hands behind her back. “Did you actually get me something? You didn’t have to, you know.”

“It’d be pretty pathetic if I didn’t,” he grouched back. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his trunks and then thrust his fist at her. “Here. Take it.”

Bulma put out her hands, cupping them beneath Vegeta’s fist to receive the gift. He dropped something, a long, silver chain snaking into her palm. 

Bulma lifted the jewelry to inspect it with wide eyes. At the end of the silver chain was a polished, honey-colored sphere. Inside, barely visible, were two little red stars.

“I know you don’t wear much jewelry,” Vegeta said, looking off to the side, his hands crossing in front of his chest, hugging himself. “But Goku said you and Chi-Chi liked this new-age charm shop. You can always use it as a keychain or something if you don’t want to wear it.”

Bulma’s eyes widened further in surprise. She knew the shop Vegeta was talking about. As a scientist, Bulma didn’t exactly believe in all the crystal malarkey the shop touted, but she did find the gemstones pretty, and the ‘meanings’ that went along with each stone were fun if nothing else. She and Chi-Chi often went there to while away some time in the mall. “What does this one mean?” she asked, holding up the charm.

Vegeta huffed, clearly not thinking much for the new-age stories either. “They said it’s ‘dragon amber’. It’s supposed to grant a wish.”

Bulma nodded, smiling at the meaning. _Cute_. “And the two stars?”

Vegeta shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. “It brings good fortune to couples.”

She looked at him, surprised, charmed that he would get her such a sentimental gift. She tried to imagine Vegeta skulking about a new age store shopping for a lovers token. Then she recalled that he hadn’t left the house in weeks. “Wait, how did you even get this?” she asked, amazed.

Vegeta frowned. “Carrot-head helped.”

“Carrot-head?” Bulma asked, laughing.

Vegeta grunted. “You know, because of the hair.”

“ _You’re_ making fun of someone else’s hair?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing,” she replied hastily. She liked Vegeta’s spiky hair, but it certainly wasn’t a conventional cut, was it? “I’m surprised you and Goku are getting along so well that you’d actually let him help you pick something out for me.”

Vegeta huffed, looking irritated just at the mention of Goku. “The guy is a _clown_. It baffles me that he’s so skilled at MMA.”

Bulma raised a brow. It was rare for Vegeta to compliment anyone. It only highlighted just how impressed he actually was with Goku’s abilities. “If I didn’t know that you’d beaten him already, I’d say you were jealous,” she teased.

Vegeta scowled, looking unhappy. “We had one practice fight that I won, yes…” Bulma sensed a ‘but’. Vegeta hesitated, and made a frustrated sound. “He beat Recoome.”

“Who?” she asked, puzzled.

“An Icejin,” Vegeta explained, curling his lip unhappily. “One of the strongest… Stronger than Zarbon. And Goku beat him like he was _nothing_.”

Bulma blinked, surprised by the news. “Wait, what? _When_?!”

“At the match up,” Vegeta said testily. “Right after my ‘technical victory’. I couldn’t believe it,” he spat, his hands fisting in rage. “I’d been training so hard, doing everything in my power just to struggle and claw at the chance to best Zarbon, and then _Goku_ fights Recoome, an even _stronger_ member of Freiza’s gang, and he doesn’t even break a sweat to do it! It was an utter _joke_. _I_ was an utter joke.”

Bulma could hardly believe what Vegeta was telling her. Was he trying to say that Goku was a better fighter than he was? “So, _that’s_ why you’ve been working out with him lately?”

Vegeta grimaced, huffing. “As loathe as I am to admit it… yes. In a street fight, I know I could best Goku; but MMA is a different matter. There are rules, a different rhythm to the fight, rounds to consider… In this, your Goku has the upper hand, and if I want to win at the tournament in the fall, then I need to learn from him what I can.”

Bulma gave Vegeta a sympathetic smile. She knew it cost him a lot to admit that he was inferior in some way to Goku, especially when it came to fighting, something Vegeta was so proud of. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it. “You’re amazing. You’ll do whatever it takes to improve yourself. I think that’s really remarkable.”

Vegeta looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any mockery. When he found none, he looked askance, flustered. 

To ease him of his embarrassment, Bulma held out her necklace. “Could you?” she asked, smiling at him affectionately.

Vegeta glanced at the necklace before taking it, stepping in towards her. He didn’t have her turn around, deftly clipping the jewelry about her neck from her front. Afterwards he let his fingers trail down her flesh, pulling her closer until they were flush together, only her bikini and his swimming trunks between them. Bulma felt her cheeks heat up as her breasts pressed against his chest. She looked at him, struggling to keep her breathing even. “Thank you for the gift,” she murmured.

He let one hand rest at her hip, the other coming up to stroke the necklace she now wore, his fingers tracing the chain against her chest, down the soft rise of her breast. “Hn,” he replied. Her skin goose-pimpled at his feather light touch, her nipples tightening under her fabric. His fingers stopped on the amber sphere, brushing her cleavage. “It rests against your heart,” he commented, looking pleased, and Bulma felt her chest ache at his words.

Unable to help herself, she leaned in and kissed him. He responded, kissing her back, his hands grabbing her hips, canting them in against his. She could feel herself respond, her desire for him blooming. She knew she should care that they were in public, but she couldn’t seem to. She finally broke the kiss, panting hard against his mouth.

“We should go back,” she said breathlessly, knowing if they didn’t stop soon, they wouldn’t be able to stop at all.

“Like _hell_ ,” he growled, and picked her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he carried them towards the water.

“Where are we going?” she asked with exhilaration, her skin flushed and burning where he touched her.

“For a swim.”

Bulma clung to him as Vegeta waded out into the water, taking them deep enough until the sea licked her breasts, encouraging her nipples to harden tighter, turning into tight little pearls. She hugged Vegeta for warmth, shivering against him in delight. She could feel him pressed against her, already hard and insistent. 

“What are you going to do?” she whispered with nervous excitement.

He looked at her, his eyes dancing with dark amusement. “Nothing. Just trying to cool us off.” His hands belied his words, his fingers caressing her buttocks, slipping down to tease the line of her bikini bottoms. Bulma’s breath shuddered as his fingers slipped inside the fabric, stirring the cool sea water against her skin. He teased against her lips, and she had to bury her face against his shoulder to hide a whimper of need.

“We could be seen,” she murmured in half-hearted protest.

He glanced around, but there was no one near to see what they were doing. “Worried your friends will see?” he asked.

“Worried they won’t?” Bulma countered back. “You seem pretty jealous of Radi-!” Her breath caught as he slipped a finger inside her, and she gasped, her hands clawing his back.

“He’s _scum_ , and I won’t have you saying his name right now unless you really want to _piss me off_ ,” Vegeta growled, his voice dangerously low. “Besides,” he added cruelly. “If I had really wanted to, I’d have fucked you on the beach towel right next to them, and I doubt you’d have stopped me.” He smirked at her, infuriatingly smug.

Bulma was about to give him a piece of her mind, but he starting moving inside her. She keened as his finger moved in and out, teasingly slow, only worsening the longing inside her. His words stayed with her, and she knew that he was probably right; when it came to Vegeta and sex, she was helpless to deny him anything, not that she wanted to deny him because he made her feel _incredible_ , undoing her and remaking her each time he had her, and she craved for him to dominate her body, again and again and again.

“Vegeta,” she keened, softly biting his bare shoulder. He tensed at the sound of his name, and Bulma smiled to herself, knowing she’d found his weakness. She dragged her mouth up his throat and bit his earlobe. “Please, _Vegeta_ ,” she purred, her tongue rolling over his name as though it were syrup, thick, rich and delectable. “Don’t you have another present to give me?”

“Not worried about being seen anymore?” he teased, even as he added another finger to stretch her out.

Bulma trembled and moaned, writhing against him, her nerves taut, quivering. She raked her nails over his shoulder blades and dragged herself up to look at his hard, smirking face. “Vegeta,” she whispered, his name a plea, salvation, damnation.

He leaned in, pressing his head to hers. “Yes?” he husked.

Bulma’s breath trembled out of her. “I _need_ you.”

“Hmm.. Who am I to deny the birthday girl?” he murmured, and kissed her steamily. Bulma sighed against him, contented, until she felt his fingers slip out of her, only to be replaced by something smooth and hot, scorchingly so compared to the cool water about them. He grabbed her waist and thrust in, pushing inside her with a practiced ease, her spread legs unable to give any resistance.

Bulma dropped her head back and groaned in agonized pleasure, feeling the water soak her hair. He fucked her, slowly, thrusting into her body with long, exaggerated strokes, letting her feel each exquisite inch of him as he entered her. He lifted her hips, encouraging her to roll against him, and she held on, keening as he tore her soul apart with each unforgiving thrust.

“Shhh,” he crooned, even as he pushed at her bikini top until her breasts spilled out. “You’ll draw a crowd.”

“Ve-GE-ta!” she sobbed miserably, desperate for him to pick up the pace. “ _Harder_.”

“Are you sure?” he asked with a wicked smirk. “I can’t carry you to bed afterwards here.”

“Just _do it_ ,” she begged in distress. He chuckled as his fingers tightly gripping her hips, and he shoved into her, forcing a cry from her. He didn’t relent, fucking her harder until everything else was torn away but the feeling of him slamming inside her, breaking her down into a mindless, pleasurable _need_. She could feel his hands cling to her tighter, as if he was afraid she might drift away, his breathing growing ragged, his eyes fixed on hers with a desperate, aching intensity that stole her breath away.

“Vegeta,” she whispered again, barely audible, feeling herself spiral towards the edge of bliss. He scrunched his eyes closed at his name, grabbing her slender back and holding her close as he continued to move inside her frantically.

“ _My Bulma_ ,” he growled possessively against her cheek, his words whisper soft, but the potency was like lava. 

She fell, tumbling over the edge of pleasure, dusting into a million pieces of ecstasy, and as she shattered, she felt him shatter with her. She stifled a cry and arched against him as she came, feeling him piston faster as he choked on a cry, holding onto her desperately as he spilled himself inside.

They clung to each other for long minutes, letting the lapping water cradle them, caress their scorching bodies as they caught their breaths and floated back to reality. He shifted her hips and he slipped out, letting the water wash away the evidence of their activity.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered hoarsely, stroking her cheek adoringly. 

Bulma gave him a tired but happy smile. “There are worse ways to go.”

He laughed. He pried her legs off his hips and helped rearrange her bikini so she was decently covered before tucking himself back into his swimming shorts. Bulma hugged him, sighing contentedly. “I suppose we should return now.”

Vegeta wrapped her up in his arms. “Must we?” he asked, stroking his thumbs over her hip bones. “I’d much rather find a motel and give you another present,” he murmured against her cheek.

Bulma blushed. It was tempting, but her friends had come here for her, and there would be plenty of time during the rest of the summer vacation for him to make good on his words. “We can’t be unsociable. Besides, I’m hungry, and there’s probably cake. C’mon, there’ll be time for this later.”

“I thought you were the birthday girl? Just tell them to get lost,” Vegeta grumbled even as he followed her back to their spot on the beach, hand in hand. When they returned, if her friends noticed her flushed cheeks or their wet swimming clothes, they were too polite to comment.

Chi-Chi cooed good-naturedly over the necklace Vegeta had given her as she laid out a feast for lunch. Everyone enjoyed the food, eating and talking and soaking up the sun. And yes, there was cake. Two in fact, which was a good thing too because between Vegeta, Goku and Raditz’s over enthusiastic appetites, there was barely enough cake for everyone else to go around.

“Uh, I’m stuffed,” Yamcha announced when he was done, patting his belly.

“Let’s work it off,” Tien suggested, grabbing a volleyball from their supplies. “Who’s game?” He looked at Bulma. “Ladies can be team captains. Bulma, you pick first, seeing as it’s your birthday.”

Bulma grinned and threw her arms around Vegeta’s neck. “I choose this lug, of course,” she said. Vegeta huffed and looked away, embarrassed.

“I never said I was playing.”

“Pleeeaasssee?” she wheedled, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him cutely. “It’s my birthday, you can’t refuse.”

“I can and do,” he rebuffed.

“I’ll be on your team,” Raditz offered her. “We should play with tower serves as well.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at Raditz, emanating pure hostility. “What the hell is _that_?”

Raditz smirked. “Tower serves? It’s when your partner serves the ball while sitting on your shoulders.”

Vegeta looked like he was about to have an aneurysm at the thought of Bulma on Raditz’s shoulders, or anyone else’s for that matter. “Absolutely _not_ ,” he shot back.

Raditz shrugged, splaying his hands. “That’s cool, man. I get it. It always intimidates the weaker players.”

Vegeta scowled at Raditz as he stood. “Bulma. Get on my shoulders.”

Bulma smirked as Vegeta stomped over to snatch the ball from Tien. She shot Raditz an amused look, and he grinned back at her, winking. _You’re welcome_ , he mouthed.

 _Thank you_ , she mouthed back and hurried over to where Vegeta was barking at her to stop dragging her feet.

This was the best birthday _ever_.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 

 **AN** : yeah, so I guess I kinda lied about there being no dragon balls in this fic, haha. I mean, I just had to include them _somehow_. But they’re not magic and don’t actually grant wishes… or do they?  >:) 

Also, you should totally check our my Vegebul fic ‘Burlesque’ inspired by VegetaPsycho’s art of the same name, if you haven’t yet. ;) 


	25. 25 - Fear

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.25 - Fear**

 

 

Sporty and competitive, Vegeta was in his element playing beach volleyball, making wild lunges to keep the ball in play and landing devastating spikes on the other team. Bulma watched him play with great admiration. He was also surprisingly gentle with her when she served the ball from his shoulders, keeping his hands firmly on her thighs to help her balance, and helping her down to her feet before he’d dash off to get into the thick of the game. His enthusiasm and skills were impressive, rivaled perhaps only by Goku’s.

After Vegeta’s first scoring spike, Bulma held up her hand.

“What?” he asked her with an odd look, staring dumbly at her hand.

“It’s a high five, you dunce,” she drawled.

“Oh.” Vegeta hesitated, then tapped her hand.

 _He’s never had a high five before_. She made it a point to continue high fiving his every little success throughout the game. It didn’t take long for him to come to expect them, even going so far as to turn towards her when he won a point, seeking her outstretched hand with a proud smirk. It made her heart flutter to see him _look_ for her, to have him come to _her_ for a pat on the back.

When Bulma scored a point, letting a wild hit send the ball out of bounds, Vegeta ran over to her, offering his upraised hand. “Nice call, Briefs.”

“Thanks,” she said with a blush, tapping his hand. He was congratulating her now? _Who was this Vegeta?_

Vegeta hit the ball hard over the net. Goku, the only one on the opposition that had a prayer of returning Vegeta’s spikes dove for the ball, but he was too late. Goku fell, taking a large mouthful of sand for his effort.

Vegeta doubled over, laughing loudly, clutching his belly at the ridiculous sight. Everyone stopped and stared, and Bulma realized it was the first time they’d seen Vegeta really cut lose. He had tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard at Goku, barely able to stand. 

Goku spat out sand and laughed along with Vegeta, always good natured, even when he was the butt of the joke. “Good one, Vegeta! I’ll get you back for that.”

“You can try,” Vegeta called back, his eyes dancing with amusement and the thrill of the challenge. Bulma smiled as her hand went to rest over her heart - over the dragon charm - overjoyed to see Vegeta was fitting in. One of them.

They easily won the volleyball game, and she gave Vegeta a big hug as she cheered in delight for their victory. 

“We _let_ you win, for your birthday,” Krillin called sourly.

“We’ll have a rematch whenever you like,” Vegeta snarked back, his hands on Bulma’s waist, returning her hug.

“Well, what now?” Chi-Chi asked as they packed up the net.

“How about the cliffs?” Goku suggested. “Vegeta still owes us a lesson.”

They all agreed and picked up their belongings to move closer to the cliffs. The cliffs themselves weren’t that tall, high enough for a challenging climb, but not so tall as to be life threatening if someone fell, although it still wouldn’t be advisable to do so, without risking a broken bone or two. It would be a challenging climb for a novice, which is exactly what Bulma was.

She nervously watched as Vegeta traversed the cliff, making it look easy. It brought back memories of when he’d paid her a late night visit to warn her against Zarbon. Vegeta had climbed up to her bedroom then, even having done so with a broken rib. His strength and agility really was remarkable.

Everyone applauded as Vegeta reached the top of the cliff, and the other boys eagerly found their own places to start climbing up, having watched Vegeta and feeling confident they could copy him.

“You gonna try?” Chi-Chi asked her.

Bulma looked at the cliff dubiously. “I doubt I could make it all the way.”

Chi-Chi shrugged and then started to make her own way up, determined to prove she was as good as any of the boys. Bulma watched as Vegeta barked down advice and insults to the MMA team as they climbed. She started to feel left out, watching everyone else climb, leaving her behind at the bottom of the beach. 

“C’mon, Bulma!” Goku called down to her, already half way up. 

“Yeah, you can do it!”

“It’s easy, Bulma!” The guys all cheered. Bulma bit her lip and looked up to the top of the cliff where Vegeta was crouched, observing them. He looked at her but said nothing, neither encouraging nor discouraging her, his face impassive. Bulma was suddenly filled with the overwhelming desire to not disappoint him, to prove herself equal. She frowned with determination and marched up to the cliff, finding her first finger holds, and started to climb.

It was easier than she thought, at first. The cliff face had many grooves and bumps with which to accommodate her, and she was able to move up a few feet before her fingers even started aching. But a few more minutes and her arms were getting tired. How the hell was everyone else doing this so easily? She must be doing something wrong, because her arms were trembling and her hands were damp with sweat. 

“Put your weight on your legs and _hang_ , don’t try to do it all with your upper body strength!” Vegeta called down to her, or at least she thought it was him, as the wind had picked up and her breath and heartbeat were so loud in her ears she could hardly hear. 

“Keep going, Bulma, you’ve got this!” someone else cheered her on from far away. Raditz maybe, or was it Goku?

Bulma persisted, but the further she climbed, the harder it was to find grip-holds within her reach. She looked down to see how far she’d gone, but that was a big mistake. She was higher than she thought, too high to comfortably jump down, at least in her opinion. Starting to tremble, Bulma looked up instead, but the top of the cliff still seemed impossibly far. Everyone was so much farther ahead of her, and Goku was nearly to the top where Vegeta was. Bulma swore under her breath, kicking herself for her own stupidity. Why was she here, trying to show off at something that was clearly out of her skill set? Give her sudoku puzzle any day over this macho, Tarzan rubbish.

Refusing to be beaten, Bulma bit her lip stubbornly and managed to scale up a few more feet. Everything ached now, her shoulders were in agony, her limbs shaking in exhaustion. She had no idea what Vegeta had meant about hanging, and honestly was too afraid to try. She reached out, stretching her arm for a new hand hold that was just an inch out of her reach… - and slipped. She yelped in fear as she fell. She slid down the cliff, scraping against the rocks before she finally grabbed on, stopping herself with a terrified squeal. 

“Bulma, are you okay?” someone called down, the wind barely carrying the words to her. Her heart was drowning out all other noise, beating a frantic tattoo in her eardrums.

 _Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Oh my god…_ The words cycled over and over in her mind.

She was terrified. She was exhausted. She was stuck. 

Bulma heard her friends call to her but she couldn’t even find it within herself to answer them, as if admitting she was scared and helpless would only solidify how utterly fucked she was. All she could do was cling to the cliff face, immobilized by fear, refusing to advance or retreat, too scared of what would happen if she tried. She knew she had to move, but she couldn’t seem to will her fingers to uncurl from their hold.

“Bulma! Hang on!” Goku cried down, already climbing towards her. She screwed her eyes closed, as if by sheer force of will she could imagine herself out of this situation. 

Goku was soon at her side. He tapped a spot on the cliff. “Look, there’s a spot here, Bulma. Use this.”

Bulma didn’t even look. She shook her head, adamantly refusing. 

“It’s okay, you’ve got this,” Goku encouraged, and he reached out to help move her hand.

“D-don’t touch me!” she said shrilly, terrified that if she moved even a little, she would fall again. “I can’t, Goku, I can’t!”

“H-hey, no problem,” Goku said, his voice surprised at her sheer terror. “Just climb on my back and I’ll carry you down.”

Bulma shook her head again, feeling tears of frustrating sting her eyes. She couldn’t move. She knew, deep down, that this was illogical, but _knowing it_ and _believing it_ were two totally different things. She was petrified, her body not responding to her will. It occurred to her that she might have developed a phobia of heights, or at least, falling down cliffs. _I’m such an idiot_ , she wailed to herself.

“You could jump down, it’s not _that_ high,” Goku suggested, still trying to help her, bless him.

Bulma shook her head slowly in defeat, knowing there was no way she’d willingly jump. Overwhelmed, and feeling like an idiot, she pressed her face into the cliff and started sobbing. 

Panicked, Goku looked up. “Vegeta!” he called desperately.

Bulma barely noticed, crying and using what little strength she had to keep herself in place. A few minutes later she heard Goku again. “Hey, Bulma, it’s gonna be okay. Look down.”

She shook her head, still weeping miserably, her whole body shaking, fatigued.

“Bulma.” The voice was firm, no nonsense, and familiar. Bulma sucked in a wet breath and forced herself to open her eyes and look down. Vegeta had climbed down and now stood on the sand beneath her, looking up at her, his expression stern. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, from worry or annoyance she couldn’t tell. Probably both, knowing him. He met her eyes unflinchingly. “Jump,” he told her.

“I c-” she started to protest, but he cut her off.

“Yes, you can. I’ll catch you.”

Doubt filled her, she was so high, and scared. What if he dropped her, what if she was too heavy, what if-

“Bulma, trust me.”

She looked into his eyes and he stared back at her resolutely, and held out his arms.

She swallowed. She didn’t know if it was his words or tone or presence, but something about him calmed the terror that was clawing her from the inside out. She trusted him. If Vegeta said he’d do something, he’d do it. Bulma steeled herself, knowing she had to do this. She wasn’t a wimp, she was a strong girl… a strong girl who couldn’t hold herself on the cliff for much longer. She closed her eyes, feeling Vegeta’s silent presence beneath her, and with a long, shaky exhale, she pushed off-

And fell-

And he caught her, just as he said he would. Bulma landed in Vegeta’s arms with a shrill yelp, her heart pounding in her chest so wildly she was afraid it might give out. Somewhere she thought she heard Chi-Chi cheering.

Bulma looked up at Vegeta, her eyes wide with fear, adrenaline still buzzing through her. He looked down at her with a small smile. “Gotchya.”

Bulma huffed out a tiny, terrified laugh and buried her face against his neck, still quivering from her ordeal. She clutched at him as if he were the only solid thing in her life and she never, ever wanted to let him go. _I’ll never go near another cliff again_ , she promised herself.

He held her tightly. “You fell from higher than this before and survived,” he chided her gently. 

“Sh-shut it,” she mumbled back, still clinging to him.

“You’re such a pain,” he replied, but his odd tone made her peek at him. She expected to see a look of annoyance, but instead she saw something much softer. He was looking at her kindly, almost adoringly. It made her forget to breathe, and all the fear seeped out of her, her heart clenching oddly.

“Vegeta…” she whispered, surprised that he’d let his mask slip, that he was looking at her so openly. She was glimpsing something so rare, seeing the real Vegeta behind the grumpy, aloof, hostile facade he showed the outside world, a protective layer he’d worn for so long it had almost become who he really was. But here she saw a young man, filled with _feeling_ , with joy and affection and a care-freeness she’d never imagined _Vegeta_ would be able to experience.

She loved him so much that it hurt.

She stared at him, amazed at what she witnessed, and saw the amazement echoed in his own eyes as he regarded her in turn.

“Ahem!” Chi-Chi cleared her throat from nearby. “Get a room you two.”

His guarded look fell back into place, and Vegeta flicked Chi-Chi an annoyed scowl. “Fine with me. This party is done with anyway.”

“What? But we have fireworks,” Chi-Chi protested.

The group looked at Bulma, and Bulma looked at Vegeta. She gave him a gentle smile. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” she tried to reassure him.

He grunted and reluctantly set her down. 

They gathered their belongings and once more set up their blankets to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, waiting for sunset. Bulma sat with Vegeta, still needing a minute to relax and calm down after her fright, feeling a little silly about the whole thing now that she was safely on the ground. Everyone else started swimming, enjoying the water. It looked like a lot of fun.

“Would you just go in already if you’re going to be making those wistful eyes the whole time?” Vegeta finally snapped at her.

Bulma looked at him in surprise. “What? No, I’m fine here. With you,” she added with a warm smile.

He gave her an agitated look. Then he stood, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She yelped. “VEGETA. Wh-what are you doing?”

“Getting you wet. Again.”

Bulma blushed, his innuendo causing her brain to fritz. They were halfway towards the water before she could react. “Wait, Vegeta, I’m not ready. It’s going to be too cold. Vegeta, put me down, Vegeta!”

Vegeta ignored her, wading into the water, holding her over his shoulder as she wriggled and begged. When he was waist deep in, he paused. “Ready?”

“NononoNONONON-”

He heaved her off, dumping her unceremoniously into the sea. Bulma shrieked, tumbling in, the cold water swallowing her. When she found which way was up, Bulma stood up, water sloshing off her, and she glared up at him, shivering, completely drenched and furious. “GOD DAMN YOU, VEGETA, I SAID-”

He smirking at her in _that_ way, cocksure, deeply amused, and _predatory_. His arms were folded over his chest, and his eyes burned her, raking over her shivering, wet body. His lips peeled back, flashing teeth as he took in the sight of her, and Bulma forgot what she’d been going to say. 

“You were saying?” he prompted cruelly.

“You’re such an _ass_ ,” she grumbled, blushing and looking away. 

Then something brushed against Bulma’s leg and she squealed, jumping onto Vegeta’s back.

“What the- damnit, Bulma, what are you doing?” he snapped agitatedly.

“SOMETHING TOUCHED ME OH MY GOD GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT!” she shrieked, clinging to his neck from behind, her legs about his waist.

“It’s probably just seaweed!”

“EWWWWW OH GOD DON’T SAY THAT, GROSS.”

“You _eat_ seaweed!”

“VEGETA!” she wailed.

Vegeta sighed and grabbed her legs, settling her more comfortably on his back as he started wading them back towards the beach. “You’re such a baby. I didn’t hear you complain when we were in the water earlier.”

He spoked a little too loudly and Chi-Chi overheard. She flashed them a curious look. “Since when were you guys in the water before?”

Bulma blushed furiously and scowled at Chi-Chi’s knowing smirk. 

They settled in on the beach and started a campfire as the sun set, the evening growing cooler. Bulma sat close to the fire, trying to fight off a shiver from the chilly sea breeze. “Here, dumbass,” Vegeta said gruffly, and he threw his top at her. Bulma pulled it on. It was soft, far too big, and smelt just like him. It was perfect. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him affectionately.

“Tch,” he replied, but the sound held no vehemence, and she even thought he looked a little pleased. Bulma nudged her way into his embrace, and they sat cuddled by the fire, wrapped up in each other. They stayed that way as the guys let off fireworks. 

The colors exploded brightly in the vast, dark sky, reflected on the sea water below like brilliant, glittering diamonds. It was magical. It was the best birthday she’d ever had, and Bulma fought back the urge to cry she was so happy. Perhaps he sensed her mood, because Vegeta hugged her tighter, and Bulma put her hands over his. She traced a love heart on his hand with her finger.

In response, he gently kissed the back of her neck.

She could have died happy then, and she melted into him as they listened to the whistling fireworks and the lapping waves.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The rest of the summer passed peacefully, but as fall approached, with the MMA tournament looming over them, a tension started to grow. Vegeta began training twice as long and hard, barely breaking for food or rest, whether Goku joined him or not. Bulma would have protested except she knew how important this tournament was to Vegeta, knew he had to get stronger, not to die, but to live. The outcome of this tournament could change everything for them.

Which is why, one day, Vegeta took a break from training and suggested they leave the house to scope out the tournament’s location. He had the chauffeur take a very convoluted route, watching the traffic behind them to ensure they weren’t being followed. When they arrived, Vegeta walked around the event center’s parking lot, looking at everything with a critical eye, trying to find… something. He finally stopped in a small, back parking lot, shielded on all sides by bushes. He looked up at an overhead security camera.

Bulma stared up at it with him. “What are we looking for, Vegeta?” she asked, his grim mood making her anxious.

“There,” he said, nodding at the camera. “Do you think you can hack those?”

“The cameras?” Bulma asked, surprised.

Vegeta nodded.

Bulma brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, squinting at the camera. She smirked and looked back at him confidently. “Hell yes I can, in my sleep. It’s one of ours. See the logo?” she pointed, a little Capsule Corp symbol on the side.

“Good,” Vegeta said. He looked around to ensure they were alone, then lowered his voice. “This is where the handoff will likely be.”

“Handoff? For the illegal betting?” she asked, looking around. It made sense. This parking lot was out of the way, far more private than the others. There was only one entrance too, which could easily be blocked off, shielding this place from onlookers.

Vegeta nodded again. “We need to get a copy of the security footage before Frieza pays off someone to wipe it. Then we’ll have a bargaining chip over him.”

Bulma nodded; that would indeed be a powerful weapon to have over Frieza. Bulma felt her heart flutter with nervous excitment. 

Vegeta was looking at her, assessing her reactions. “You can do it, right?”

“Of course I can, who do you think you’re talking to?” She said with forced arrogance. “I’m Bulma Briefs, not just a national beauty, but a genius too. If you want the cameras accessed remotely, it’ll be done.”

He continued to look at her, his expression still grim. “Good. Because this is very important. If anything goes wrong and we don’t get that footage, we could be royally fucked, you, me, our families, your friends. _Fucked_ ,” he stressed. 

Bulma thinned her lips. “I got it. I’ll ‘hack’ the cameras, I can probably have it done by tonight just to put you at ease, how about that?”

Vegeta’s mouth curled up in the hint of a smile. He nodded, once. “Good. Do it.” 

They walked around the perimeter of the center one more time, Vegeta getting a lay of the land before they headed home. 

Bulma was able to access the security camera feed without an issue and without alerting anyone. Vegeta was pleased, but Bulma could still sense a hidden uneasiness within him. It was as if he carried around a pent up energy that he couldn’t burn, not that he didn’t try, working out at every opportunity that he had. He didn’t even let up when summer vacation ended and school started up again.

Bulma was busy too, needing to study for once since she’d taken some online college courses this semester. She started doing her homework in the gym, half studying, half watching Vegeta abuse himself by using the equipment and going through MMA exercises until he was quivering from exhaustion, slick with sweat from head to toe. By the end of his sessions he always looked on the verge of collapse, barely able to drag his aching body across to a vending machine where he’d crack open a sports drink and empty the entire contents in several large gulps. Then he’d stumble to the bathroom and shower, emerging later to look slightly less drained and a lot more refreshed, but Bulma could see the weariness drag at him. And then he’d insist on taking her to bed, and she felt guilty that he’d be so attentive to her needs despite his fatigue. If she tried to insist they only cuddle, he’d growl at her and throw himself at her with even more ardor until she learned to shut up and accept it was just his way.

Afterwards, when he’d pass out next to her, utterly exhausted, a large, possessive arm thrown over her narrow waist, she’d watch him sleep, letting her eyes trail over the shape of his face, the line of his nose, the furrow of his brow, his dark lashes flush against his cheeks. He looked so young yet so world weary. She wondered if the pressure of the tournament, of facing Ginyu and Frieza, was becoming too much for him, but there was little she could do to alleviate that pressure other than to be positive and supportive.

She tried to make him feel better by helping him nail down their plans, but he didn’t seem interested in doing so, at least not with her. “Why are we going over this again? Didn’t you pay attention the first three times?” he snapped at her. Of course she’d paid attention, the plans were imprinted in her soul.

Vegeta was to fight in the tournament. Outwardly, it would appear that he and the others were just a bunch of school students, representing their school in an MMA bout, totally unaware of the illegal gambling that went on behind the scenes. Vegeta’s odds to win were low, so Bulma would place a large bet on him to when. If (when) he won, they would bargain with Frieza, giving the money up to buy Vegeta and his father’s freedom.

“And… if you lose…?” she finally found the nerve to ask Vegeta. She didn’t want to undermine his pride, but this was a risky plan, they had to have all their bases covered.

Vegeta snorted. “ _If_ I lose, then he’ll only have more money to hand off in front of the cameras that _you’ll be watching,_ like I told you. If we can’t _buy_ my freedom, then we’ll have the security footage to blackmail Frieza for it instead.”

Bulma nodded, even as she was still filled with doubts. “What if he escalates matters?” she asked, nervous. “What if something else happens that we aren’t prepared for?”

Vegeta grabbed her arms, giving her a cocky smirk. “It won’t. Don’t worry. Besides, I’m not going to lose.”

But she did worry. And despite his apparent confidence, Bulma felt like Vegeta worried too, which is why he didn’t want to discuss the plans further, and why he threw himself into his training, and their sex, with an almost feral desperation, as if to hide a deeper insecurity, as if by sheer brute force he could make everything work out. But where he lived in denial, Bulma lived in doubt. Were they doing the right thing? Would it be enough? Should she have asked for help? She could still tell someone, her father perhaps, but Vegeta would loath it if she did, and likely feel betrayed, and it would only endanger her father if they tried to bring him into their loop. No, she had to pray that Vegeta knew what he was doing, that he knew this underground world better than she did, and knew how to handle the consequences.

All she could do was trust him.

And then, before they knew it, the eve of the tournament was upon them. 

They had their final MMA training at the school gym, Piccolo giving the team a pep talk and instilling in them the importance of a good night’s rest. Bulma’s stomach was in knots. She and Vegeta walked home, the silence strained between them, both of them thinking about the upcoming day. Vegeta took her hand, and she saw the blue leather band still wrapped around his wrist. The sight of it oddly reassured her.

 As they turned the last corner for home, Vegeta suddenly came to a stop. Bulma looked at him to see why, and noticed him looking at something in the distance, his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she saw what had caught his attention. A familiar black car was parked down the street, poorly too, half up on the curb as if the driver had been drunk or in a hurry. Or both. Bulma felt herself stiffen in worry, stepping closer to Vegeta. “Is that…?”

Vegeta’s mouth thinned, unhappily. He tore his gaze from the car to look at her, letting her hand go, his expression serious. “Go inside. I’ll check it out.”

“Vegeta,” she protested, reaching out to curl her fingers in his shirt, scared. If it was Zarbon, she was afraid. The last time Vegeta had met Zarbon, he’d almost been killed. “Let’s just go inside,” she insisted.

Vegeta’s gaze pulled back to the car, unable to let it go. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone - not the one she’d given him. The sight of it made her uneasy, she knew he had another phone, but she’d never seen him use it before. It’s appearance worried her more than Zarbon’s car did. He looked at her, seeing the dread in her eyes. “I’m going to make a call,” he explained. “I don’t think Zarbon’s even supposed to be watching me anymore. He could be acting against Frieza’s orders. Go inside and wait, I promise I won’t be long.”

Bulma felt her gut twist with worry. She didn’t want to leave him, worried he wouldn’t come back, worried something awful would happen, but he gave her a stern look that wouldn’t be argued with. She fought back her anxiety, putting on a brave front. “Okay. But you’ve only got 5 minutes, then I’m calling the police,” she told him stubbornly.

His mouth curled up, his expression softening. He reached up and brushed his thumb against her cheek, leaning in to touch their brows together. “Trust me.”

Bulma let out a shivering breath, helpless to deny him that. She gave him a weak smile and nodded, then turned to head inside. She looked over her shoulder, watching as Vegeta stepped towards the road to get a better look at the car, his cell phone already to his ear as he made a call.

Bulma shut the front door gently behind her and headed upstairs to her room. The house was quiet and dark, her parents out of town on a business meeting. Bulma opened her bedroom door, stepping in, turning on the light-switch. As the white light filled the room, it illuminated an unfamiliar figure sitting on her bed. Bulma let out a short scream, startled by the sight. Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes going wide. It took a few seconds for her brain to process what she saw - Zarbon, although he was almost unrecognizable. Where once there had been a proud, strong man in the prime of his youth, now sat an emancipated, hollow shell of a person. He’d lost weight, and his hair looked greasy, unkempt. His eyes when he raised them to take her in were red rimmed and unfocused. He gave her an unsettling, lilting smile.

“Welcome home, love,” he growled.

 

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 **AN** : 

There’s already a new vegebul story up - Girl Next Door ‘Grinchmas’, based on stupidoomdoodles’ comic of the same name.

Thanks as always for all the lovely reviews! Keep ‘em coming, they’re always inspiring.

 


	26. 26 - Attack

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.26 - Attack**

 

She panicked. Bulma turned, making a break for the door. She was able to pry it open a few inches before a hand slammed into her back, shoving her forward, shutting the door with a bang and killing what little hope she had to escape. Then the hand grabbed her shirt and wrenched her back, throwing her across the room where she fell to the floor. She hit the base of the bed with a painful thud.

Dazed, she stared up at Zarbon, fear flooding her, paralyzing. 

Zarbon chuckled, standing in front of the door to block any further attempts of escape and looked at her with contempt, eyeing her up and down with sunken eyes. “I suppose it makes sense he’d be banging someone like you, all tiny and helpless, just like he was. Trust Vegeta to want to protect something, since he couldn’t ever protect himself. Pathetic. No matter, I’ll get from you what he’s clearly incapable of doing and I’ll show Frieza who’s more worthwhile to keep around.”

Bulma huddled back against the side of the bed, her heart pounding. She was trapped. She didn’t know what Zarbon was rambling about, she only cared that he was dangerous, violent, and appeared to be on the verge of a psychological melt down with her right in his crosshairs.

She needed Vegeta; physically she was no match for Zarbon, but Vegeta was. However Vegeta was all the way across the other side of the house, in the front yard no less, completely unaware that she was being attacked. _Five minutes_ , that’s what she’d told him. Was Vegeta watching the time? Would he notice if she didn’t return? He might simply think she’d gone to bed, he might not even check up on her right away, or at all… it could be _hours_ before she saw him again… Hours that Zarbon could do anything to her, take her anywhere, and she’d be helpless to stop him. Bulma felt herself start to shake, afraid.

“Vegeta’s right behind me,” she lied, her voice breathless with panic. She hoped the threat would be enough to make Zarbon leave.

He only leered at her, his eyes wild. “I _hope_ so. I want him to see what I’m about to do to you. I want to watch his goddamn face as I ruin everything he has, like he ruined everything _I had_.” 

Bulma looked up at him in terror, the color draining from her face as she realized his intentions. He stared back down at her, cold and merciless. It hit her like a truck; she was staring at her death, and he would make sure it wouldn’t be a pleasant one. 

“VEGETA!” she screamed, staggering to her feet and running to the bedroom window to throw it open, her only hope that the wind would catch her voice and send it to him across her family’s huge property. “HELP ME, VEG-” she screamed as she tried to climb out but was cut off when Zarbon grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back, throwing her violently onto her bed. Bulma cried out in terror as he followed her. She started backing up as he crawled up the length of the bed, and she lashed out at him with her feet. She kicked at his face but he dodged, taking her foot harmlessly in the shoulder. He grabbed her ankle and pinned it down.

She shrieked with outrage and fear. She was trapped, _she was trapped_ , and he was _touching_ her and _oh god, she couldn’t get away!_

Wild with terror, Bulma kicked out with her other leg, only to have it also caught in Zarbon’s powerful fingers and pinned down, her legs spread-eagled on the bed, Zarbon grinning maniacally at her. “O-ho, I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred.

Bulma started sobbing. Ashamed, terrified, she grabbed the pillows on the bed and threw them at Zarbon, her hands desperately searching for anything to get him to retreat, if only for a moment, so that she could get away. He slid his hands up her legs, keeping them spread wide as he moved up the length of her body, coming closer.

Bulma screamed, thrashing, trying to break free but to no avail, his grip like iron. “GET OFF ME, DON’T TOUCH ME YOU CREEP!” she screamed hysterically. Her hand latched onto something solid - her bedside lamp had fallen over in her struggles. She grabbed it and threw it at Zarbon with all her might. He had to let her go to bat the lamp away from his face.

“Fucking _cunt_ ,” he swore. Bulma didn’t hesitate. She scrambled for the edge of the bed and was half off it when Zarbon pulled her back and smacked her hard across the face. His slap stung, making her reel, bringing fresh tears of pain to her eyes and the sweet taste of blood to her mouth. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled at her, pissed that she’d almost got him. He moved, putting his knees on her legs, pinning her down with his full weight. It hurt. She whimpered, holding her stinging cheek and looking up at him in growing horror.

He started to unbuckle his belt.

Something broke inside of her. All her genius, all her vehement words, all her family’s wealth wasn’t going to get her out of this. It was humbling, and terrifying, and she’d never felt so helpless in all her life. “P-please don’t do this,” she heard herself begging, as fat tears ran down her cheeks, and she hated herself for having broken so easily. Vegeta would be disgusted with her.

“Save the begging for when your boyfriend is here,” Zarbon replied coldly as if reading her mind. “He should get a kick out of it, hearing your whimpering as I fuck you.”

Despite her panic, Bulma felt her brows pull down into a scowl, suddenly filled with more hate than she thought herself possible of feeling. Zarbon _disgusted_ her in every way a person possibly could, and if he was going to hurt her, then she was going to let him know exactly what she thought about him. “He’s _twice_ the man you are,” she spat, trembling in rage, her voice holding strong despite her fear. “No wonder Frieza favors him over you.” 

Zarbon froze, his hand paused on his fly. His face twisted into rage at her words, and he leaned forward, pressing more of his weight into her, forcing her to bite back a pained cry. “What does a trust-fund slut like you know of Frieza?” he snarled. His eyes roamed her body splayed before him, before darting back to her face. His mouth split into a disquieting smirk. “Why do you think I’m even here? Why do you think your little _boyfriend_ is even here? For _you_?” Zarbon laughed cruelly. 

Bulma felt her lip quiver. She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. H-he loves me, and he’s going to b-break you when he finds you,” she threatened, but her bravery was faltering.

Zarbon’s eyes flashed with a malicious amusement, seeing her crumble. He leaned in closer. “Not if I break you first. Think he’ll want you then? Vegeta hates to share you know, doubt he’ll give you the time of day after I’ve ruined your hot little body.”

Bulma hissed in rage, if only to hide how terrified she was. She lashed out, one last, desperate attempt, but Zarbon caught her hands and shoved them above her head. She started screaming, curses and insults and for Vegeta, anything, anything that came to her mind because it was the only thing left for her to do. Zarbon snarled and his hand snaked out, his long fingers wrapping around her throat. He squeezed, and Bulma’s eyes bulged as her air was cut off and her words effectively stopped. She struggled, but he had her pinned at her legs and arms, helpless beneath him, helpless to stop him. He’d taken everything from her. She was helpless…

He leaned in, whispering against her ear as he slowly choked her. “Your precious Vegeta has been a thorn in my side for far too long. I should have been serving at Frieza’s side all these years, not babysitting some military brat! Making him suffer was the only solace I had, but you took even that from me when you lured him here. If he really does love you, then I can’t _wait_ to see the look on his face when he finds you, used, dead, under his new roof.”

Bulma felt tears trail down the sides of her face as she gasped for air. Zarbon’s hand squeezed tighter, and he leaned his weight into her, choking her fully. She gagged, unable to breath, her mouth opened uselessly. _Think,_ _think_ she begged herself, but nothing came to mind. _CAN’T BREATHE, CAN’T BREATHE_ was all she could process, and she stared up at Zarbon in horror but he didn’t give. He was going to kill her. She struggled but she was already weakening, feeling her strength fade and her face grow hot as she suffocated. Stars of light clouded her vision, her heart thundered loudly in her ears, dulling all other sounds. She convulsed, her body demanding the air she couldn’t get, that he wouldn’t give her. As she felt the last of her strength leave, she scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting the last thing she saw to be Zarbon’s maniacal grin.

There was a loud bang.

Zarbon’s hand was ripped from her throat. _Air_. Bulma wheezed loudly, sucking in painful, gasping breaths of air. She coughed, taking hacking breaths and rolled to her side, clutching the sheets as she struggled to draw in enough oxygen through her crushed windpipe. The pounding in her ears began to lessen, replaced now by a different beat, the sound of a scuffle. 

Vegeta and Zarbon were grabbing each other, throwing the other about the room. The bedroom door was flung wide open, broken at the handle from where Vegeta had bust in with extreme force. The two boys snarled as they attacked, slamming each other hard into walls and furniture as they violently fought. This was no respectful MMA bout, this was savage and aggressive, each man intent on breaking the other, on killing the other. Nothing less would do.

Bulma watched in terror, terrified at their brutal strength, terrified for Vegeta. Zarbon tried to crack his elbow into Vegeta’s face, but Vegeta dodged, slamming his palm into Zarbon’s gut in retaliation. Zarbon wheezed and stumbled back, clutching his gut. He looked up at Vegeta, and grinned. “Heh… I think I get it now. No wonder you like her, she even _tastes_ expensive,” he snarked.

Vegeta snarled. He darted in, grabbing Zarbon’s long hair and he held Zarbon’d head as he brought his knee up, smashing it into Zarbon’s face. There was a sickening crunch. Zarbon’s legs trembled and gave out. Vegeta let him go, Zarbon crumpling to the floor. His nose was gushing blood, and he looked up at Vegeta, laughing brokenly.

“Hahaha, you s-stupid fuck, you really _have_ fallen for her, haven’t you?” Zarbon laughed weakly, spitting out blood. “Frieza is going to-”

Vegeta didn’t let him finish. He threw a punch and smacked Zarbon down. Vegeta pursued, hitting him again, and again, and again until Zarbon stopped moving, only able to wheeze wretchedly. He looked up at Vegeta with a bloody smile. “Go on, little Prince, kill me. I know you’ve always wanted to.”

Vegeta raised his bloodied fist high to oblige, then paused. His chest was rising and falling, his arm trembling to deliver justice. He glared down at Zarbon, his lip curling in disgust. 

“First one’s always the hardest,” Zarbon sneered.

Vegeta thinned his mouth and punched Zarbon in the jaw. Zarbon’s eyes rolled up and he went limp. Vegeta let his hand drop loosely to his side, and fell back on his heels. He slumped, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to get his breathing under control. Despite winning, he looked utterly defeated.

Vegeta suddenly stiffened and looked over to the bed, as if just remembering about Bulma. He staggered to his feet, his face contorting with worry as he moved over to her. “Bulma-”

She’d seen the whole fight, frozen in fear by it and still weak from her attack. She tried to push herself into a sitting position, and Vegeta helped her, gently grabbing her arms and sitting her up. His hands were slick with Zarbon’s blood. 

His eyes frantically scanned her, checking for any serious injury. “Are you hurt? Did he…?”

His question broke the thin control she had been holding herself together with, and she broke down into tears, shaking her head and sobbing hard, ashamed, terrified and relieved all at once. She was still clutching her poor neck, and Vegeta brought his hand up to check it, but she saw his fingers coming for her, just like Zarbon’s had, and she flinched back with a small, frightened cry.

Vegeta pulled his hand back, alarmed. He looked at his hand between them, noticing the blood for the first time. He let her go as if her skin suddenly burned. He looked away, his mouth turning down with self loathing, his shoulders hunching, withdrawing into himself.

It’s not what she’d wanted, she hadn’t wanted to push him away, she’d only been startled. Before he could retreat completely, Bulma reached out and gripped his shirt, pressing her face into his chest. She felt him stiffen in surprise. 

“…You’re not scared of me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Bulma shook her head, still crying. 

Slowly, Vegeta brought his hands up. She felt them wrap around her, hugging her tightly. He buried his face against her hair. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice small. Bulma pressed herself closer against him, relieved that he was holding her at last. In his arms, she was safe, protected. “My contact kept giving me the run around,” he explained. “But he finally confessed that Zarbon has been on some kind of bender, gone AWOL after getting in trouble for nearly killing me. I know Zarbon, I know he’d blame me for that. I ran up here as fast as I could…”

Bulma shook her head, not blaming him for taking so long to reach her. Vegeta had come, and helped her, that was the main thing. After several long minutes, she started to calm down, getting over the shock of the attack. She pulled her face back from his embrace, sniffling, and glanced fearfully over at Zarbon’s body. “Is he…”

“Dead? No, not yet,” Vegeta said, his voice grim, cold, as he looked at his childhood tormentor. Bulma’s fingers curled in Vegeta’s shirt.

“You’re not going to…?” she asked fearfully.

“No,” Vegeta admitted, but he didn’t sound pleased by the confession. “I won’t kill him. But I’ll do the next best thing.” Vegeta dug into his pocket and pulled out his Icejin cell. He called someone, and when they answered he said, “Yeah, it’s the Prince. I have a stray dog that needs medical attention… Yes … Collar reads ‘Zarbon’.”

There was silence where Vegeta listened to the other end of the line, then he gave them the Brief’s address and hung up. He put the phone away and looked at Bulma, his eyes searching her face. “Are you going to be okay? I have to carry him outside to be picked up.”

Bulma nodded numbly. She watched as Vegeta started to get up, but the thought of him leaving her alone right now, even for a minute, filled her with panic. Her breath hitched and she reached out, clinging to him tightly. He paused, putting his hands gently on her arms, his eyes searching hers, worried. “What is it?”

“I…” she started to say but her voice failed her. She was unable to express the deep fear she was feeling, humiliated, clingy. She was normally so strong, independent, but all that had been violated and she didn’t know what to do about it. This weakness was mortifying.

Vegeta seemed to guess her feelings. He squeezed her arms. “Come with me,” he suggested.

Bulma swallowed and nodded compliantly.

Vegeta went to fetch Zarbon’s body, heaving the raggedly breathing young man over his shoulder. He then came back and took Bulma’s hand, and he walked her out of her room and down the stairs to the front door. 

They didn’t have to wait long before some nondescript car pulled up, and Vegeta headed down the path, dumping Zarbon in the backseat of the car. Bulma hovered by the front door, watching nervously. Inside the car, someone reached out and grabbed Vegeta’s arm. Alarmed, Bulma took a step forward, worried they were going to try and pull Vegeta in with them. But Vegeta barked something - she could hear his tone if not his words, - and then he yanked his hand back and slammed the car door shut. The car drove off, and Vegeta stomped back over to her, trying to ease his frustrated look before he reached her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice still hoarse.

Vegeta made a dismissive sound. “It’s nothing. Let’s go inside.” They went in and Vegeta shut and locked the front door. Bulma took a few steps towards the stairs before she realized he wasn’t following her. She turned to look at him.

Vegeta was leaning his brow against the door, hunched over it. His body was taught, looking stressed and worn thin. Bulma felt her throat constrict in a way that had nothing to do with her attack.

“Vegeta…?” she asked hesitantly, stepping towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch from her touch, but he didn’t respond to it either.

“… I just sent a man to his death,” he confided softly.

Bulma felt her blood go cold. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked, not sure she really wanted to know, her voice fragile and scared.

She could hear that he spoke through gritted teeth. “Zarbon went AWOL. You don’t just do that with the Icejin and get away with it.”

Which meant he was going to be executed. As much as she hated Zarbon, as much as he probably deserved it, it was still horrifying to consider. The Icejin were monsters. “Maybe they won’t…” she offered weakly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Vegeta agreed, his voice bleak. “But then he’ll wish they _had_ killed him instead, or that I had.”

Bulma’s bottom lip trembled. “But… surely being beaten o-or tortured is better than being dead, right?” she asked uncertainly.

Vegeta gave a short, humorless laugh, amused by her naivety. 

Bulma lowered her head, ashamed at herself for presuming to know anything about his world. She couldn’t fathom how conflicted he must be at handing over Zarbon. She put her arms around Vegeta’s waist and hugged him carefully from behind. He felt tense, and she thought she could feel him tremble as he breathed in, or perhaps she was the one who was shaking? Vegeta let her hold him for a moment before pulling out of her embrace, turning around and scooping her up in his arms before she could protest. 

Bulma let him carry her, relieved to be close to him. She was feeling far more vulnerable and needy than usual, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him as he carried her upstairs. “Are you hurt?” she asked, wondering if he’d sustained any injuries in his fight with Zarbon.

“Tch, he was _weak_ ,” Vegeta replied sourly, his way of saying ‘no’. Despite his years of abuse at Zarbon’s hand, Vegeta didn’t sound pleased with Zarbon’s demise. Did Vegeta wish he’d killed Zarbon? Did he wish the fight had gone differently? She didn’t know, but she could see Vegeta was deeply unsettled.

He carried them towards the corridor where their bedrooms led. As he moved closer to hers, Bulma tensed, not wanting to return to the room where she’d been assaulted, but Vegeta walked right past it, taking them instead to the bathroom. He set her gently on the closed toilet seat, then set about washing the blood off his hands wetting a cloth to clean her of the blood he’d accidentally smeared on her. The cloth was cool, and his attentions gentle. After she was clean he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a tube of medicinal cream. He crouched before her and gently applied it to her throat. Bulma felt her heart race at his nearness, touched by Vegeta’s tender ministrations. That he was being so sweet towards her despite his own emotional turmoil almost made her want to cry.

“You saved me,” she said suddenly, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

He frowned. His hand fell away from her throat, and he dropped his head, his shoulders hunching. His voice was thick when he spoke. “You should be cursing me. It’s _my_ fault you were in any danger to begin with.”

Bulma’s throat constricted, hearing the self-loathing in Vegeta’s voice. She put her hand on his face and raised it so that she could meet his eyes. He looked at her, hesitantly, his black eyes riddled with guilt. She gave him a small, wet smile. “You’re my _hero_.”

His expression turned scornful. “I’m no hero, Bulma, believe me.”

“Vegeta,” she protested, and stubbornly bumped their heads together. “You are. My hero,” she repeated, slowly and firmly, leaving no doubt between them that she meant every word. “Heroes don’t have to be perfect. They just have to do what they think is right, and help others, and you’ve helped me countless times. I don’t care what other people think, or say, or even if you don’t believe it yourself. You’re my hero, Vegeta. End of discussion.”

He looked at her, his expression pained, clearly struggling with her words, struggling to reconcile her view of him with his own and the weight that her words carried. Bulma brought up her other hand up and cupped his face, still seeing his doubt, and she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. 

His eyes widened, startled. He searched her eyes, looking for something. “I thought you’d…” his voice trailed off.

“Thought what?” she pressed, brushing her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones.

His jaw clenched, and he rested his hands ever so lightly on her waist, as if afraid to break her. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be touched this way, after…”

“After Zarbon?” she asked. 

Vegeta shook his head. “After seeing me nearly kill him. The look on your face when I tried to touch you…”

He thought he terrified her, disgusted her with his violence. And while the fight had been frightening, Bulma hadn’t been frightened of him, she’d been frightened _for_ him. She shifted off the toilet seat to embrace Vegeta at the same level, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. “I was terrified,” she admitted. “But not of you, Vegeta, you idiot. You’re the only one who makes me feel safe.”

Vegeta brought his arms up and crushed her against him, holding her tight, painfully tight, but she let him, needing to be held as much as he needed to hold her. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her all the way to his bedroom, laying her down on his bed. He braced himself above her, looking down at her with intense eyes. She could see something dark and burning in his gaze, a desperate need to prove something to her, to himself. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his voice oddly gentle and subdued.

Bulma nodded, her heart beat picking up with anticipation. “I know. I trust you.” 

Vegeta leaned in and kissed her, not as he usually did with hunger and lust, but sweetly, achingly careful. He stripped off her clothing a piece at a time, showering every inch of her revealed skin with kisses and gentle touches until Bulma was nothing but a languid, aching mess beneath him, utterly cherished, shivering in delight, whimpering for more. He took it slow, bringing her to the edge more than once as he worshiped her with his hands, his mouth, his body, and when he slipped inside of her it was in aching relief. When he came inside her, trembling and gasping her name in a heartbreaking sob, Bulma came with him, feeling a few tears sting the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed with emotions at the intensity of their love making.

Exhausted, Vegeta passed out almost immediately afterwards, lying beside her, his hand pressed to the flat of her stomach, holding her close. Bulma tried to fall asleep, but the tears that she had choked back started to fall, and she couldn’t get them to stop. Now, with nothing to distract her, her mind free to wander, she couldn’t help feeling their coupling had been more bitter than sweet. Despite the leisurely pace, there had been something off in Vegeta’s attentions, something too possessive, too desperate, his strange tenderness leaving her feeling an awful sense of dread… 

It was as if he had been making love to her for the last time. 

Her mind filled with doubts, a chaotic swarm, fearing the tournament tomorrow, fearing the attack she’d barely survived, fearing Vegeta’s secretive, distrustful nature, his self-loathing, his inability to believe that he was worthy of her, of her trust, of being her hero…

_…Frieza says not to forget where your loyalties lie…_

_…I expect results and I expect them soon…_

_… He’s one of Frieza’s favorites, Zarbon too. You just have to mention their names to anyone in the know, and people will crap their pants…_

_…Why do you think your little boyfriend is even here? For you?…_

_…Zarbon went AWOL. You don’t just do that with the Icejin and get away with it…_

_…I’m no hero, Bulma, believe me…_

She thought she knew Vegeta, but she realized now there was a large part of him that she’d never met, this so called ‘Prince’, the Icejin member. Who was he? How involved was he still with the Icejin? Involved enough that he was carrying around their cell phone, involved enough to be calling in favors, involved enough to not be considered AWOL…

She watched him sleep, watching the face of the young man she loved and cried silently to herself, disgusted at herself for her doubts, at Zarbon for encouraging them, and at Vegeta for not allaying them. She finally fell into an exhausted sleep, hours before the dawn of the tournament.

What was she to him?

 

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 **AN** : …. I’m really, really excited to share the next couple of chapters with you guys. *Smirks* . Do you like spoilers? I made a shitty drawing of something that happens at the tournament in ch.27 if you’re curious… 

 **Leave a review** to let me know what you liked, what made your heart stop or melt or rage. I haven’t heard from some of you guys in a while, hope you lovely people are all doing well ;) 

Follow me on **twitter** / **tumblr** if you so desire and feel free to say hi!

Also -oh my gosh guys- I’ve received some TRUELY AMAZING **fanart** for Friends from the following people: **GalacticShark17** , **AlienaChan** , **Batcreditcard** , **VegetaPsycho** , **Rutbisbe** and **nelicquele79.** Did I miss anyone? PLEASE NEVER BE SHY TO GIVE ME FANART. Feel free to harass the shit out of me until I see your work and rub it all over myself in glee. Btw, on **_Archive of our Own_** , you can ADD PICTURES to your stories, so I’ve uploaded all the great fanart to my chapters there. Really wish FFnet had something like that…

-Lady Vegeets

 


	27. 27 - Prince (w/ FANART)

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.27 - Prince**

 

Vegeta woke early. He blinked at the pale, pre-dawn light filtering through his window, surprised that he’d found any sleep at all. Bulma lay curled up next to him, naked and turned away from him. He pushed up on one arm to better see her. She was sleeping, but it didn’t look peaceful. Her face was pale, pulled into a soft frown, dark lines under her eyes. Her sleep had been troubled. His eyes trailed down her face, to her throat, and he pressed his lips together, his hands fisting in anger at the deep purple bruises staining her otherwise perfect skin. It _infuriated_ him that she’d been hurt, that she had to wear the shameful marks of another man upon her. They _mocked_ him, an ugly reminder that he _hadn’t kept her safe_. That he had brought this violence upon her.

Vegeta wondered if Frieza had killed Zarbon, and neither answer assuaged the roiling hate and bitterness that he felt. 

He reached out to ghost his fingers against Bulma’s bruises, but she stirred, whimpering, and he guiltily retracted his hand, not wishing to wake her. He watched to make sure she had drifted off before pushing her hair behind her ear, allowing himself that small indulgence. His eyes caught on the leather band wrapped around his wrist, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe, the reminder of her affection for him overwhelming.

_You’re the only one who makes me feel safe. You’re my hero…_

He swallowed and looked back at her, his eyes trailing over her slender frame, over her pert breasts, down her soft belly until his view was obstructed by the blanket. His mind played over their night together, his hands and mouth having mapped every inch of her, making her fall apart sweetly beneath him again and again, savoring it, treasuring it. Treasuring her. Vegeta felt the stirrings of longing but he pushed them back. He knew he had to get up and get ready, but he found himself reluctant to. He wanted to burn her image into his mind, to savor this peaceful morning together for as long as he could. He didn’t know if he’d get another.

Finally, with iron self control, Vegeta climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her, and he grabbed his clothing. He picked up the blue undershirt and orange gi he’d be wearing that day, the colors of their school, his fingers brushing over the uniform. He frowned down at the fabric; it would be the first time he’d ever walked into a fight, knowing he did so for someone else. He cast Bulma one last glance, still sleeping restlessly in his bed, before taking his things to the bathroom to shower and change. 

When he came out and went to the kitchen, she was already there, cooking a large breakfast for them. She served him, her eyes still tired, filled with a concern which she tried, and failed, to hide from him as she smiled. “You’ll need your strength,” she told him, putting a plate of hot, steaming food on the counter.

He grunted in thanks and started to eat, trying to enjoy the meal, but habits were hard to break; he’d learned the hard way that food was as easily taken as given, and he ate quickly. He glanced at her, seeing she watched him, her unnerving blue gaze piercing right through him, her eyes guarded now, something troubling her. He could only imagine it was concern for the tournament. He wanted to reassure her, but he also didn’t want to lie to her, no more so than he already had.

“Are you nervous?” she asked after a while. She could never stay quiet for long. “I’m nervous,” she admitted with a tense laugh.

He grunted. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Of course you’re not nervous,” she finished, taking his lack of answer as indifference, and she looked away, getting lost in her own anxious thoughts. He watched her from the corner of his eye; she was wearing the dragon amber necklace and his mother’s ring. Her hair was rumpled, her face tired, and she was only dressed in one of his shirts, the large top resting at the tops of her thighs. She was a mess. And she was perfect. Vegeta felt his throat constrict and he looked away, scowling down at his breakfast to push his tumultuous feelings back, down, away.

This was _unbearable_. He got up abruptly and she startled. “I’m not hungry,” he announced, his plate only half eaten, and he left, pretending not to see the hurt look on her face.

Normally when he felt this way he’d train, exhaust himself to the point that he couldn’t tell what hurt more, his body or his heart, but he needed to save his energy for the tournament. He went outside to sit in the cool morning sun, pretending to play his gameboy while his mind went over his plan, mentally preparing himself for every possibility. 

Finally, it was time. Bulma had changed into their school colors to show support; a bright blue dress and orange sneakers, and with an orange scarf about her throat to hide her bruises. They got into the Capsule Corp limo and drove to the tournament grounds in silence. Bulma reached out to take his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. It felt like she squeezed his heart.

Their team was already there when they arrived, Goku and the other MMA members dressed in their bright orange gis, their smiles just as bright and carefree, not a clue in the world how important this tournament really was. 

“Ready to kick some butt?” Goku asked cheerily, slapping Vegeta on the shoulder. Vegeta threw the tall idiot a glare, irritated at Goku’s ceaseless happy-go-luck attitude. Envious of it. Goku just laughed at his glower. “That’s the spirit!”

Piccolo was there too and gave them all encouraging words and instructions that Vegeta didn’t listen to, his eyes scanning the crowds of people, seeing if he recognized anyone. Eventually his eyes drifted up to the security cameras, and Bulma followed his gaze. She gave him a smile and subtle nod, reassuring him that everything was taken care of. He prayed it was the case; their safety was riding on it.

It was finally time to go inside, which meant parting ways from Bulma, the contestants and audience taking different entrances. He slowed his pace, grabbing Bulma’s wrist until they fell back behind the others, giving them a private moment together.

She looked at him curiously, granting him a soft smile when he didn’t speak right away. “Go show them how strong you are,” she told him confidently, proudly.

He huffed, expelling nervous energy as he did so. “Just remember what we talked about. _Before_ the tournament ends, make sure you’re back home watching the camera feed. You _have_ to get that footage, no matter what.” He looked at her sternly, then repeated himself to be sure she understood. “ _No matter what._ ”

Bulma rolled her eyes, not pleased to be having this conversation again. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Vegeta. I _still_ don’t know why I have to watch the footage, I want to watch you guys-”

“In case anything goes wrong,” he snapped, cutting her off. His anxiety was making him curt, and she frowned at his brusqueness, but he persisted. “I need to know you’re safe, and I need to know we’re getting that footage in case they try to do anything, mess with the feed or whatever. You have to be there and keep the cameras rolling. Do you understand?” he asked, giving her wrist a little shake for emphasis.

Bulma snatched her hand back, glaring at him, not liking his tone or his attitude. “Yes! I get it. Jeez, I know you’re under a lot of pressure, Vegeta, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“… Sorry.”

Her face showed her surprise, her eyes going wide, filling with apprehension. He cursed himself inwardly for apologizing, knowing it only raised her suspicions. 

“Vegeta,” she asked, her voice unusually quiet, unsure. “…Is there something you’re not telling me?”

 _Fuck_. He scowled at her and folded his arms. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her, hoping to throw her off by being rude.

Bulma’s gaze slipped away, and she hugged her arms to her chest, forcing a weak smile. “Nothing, I guess. Sorry. We can talk later.” She dared to look at him, and he saw the doubt in her eyes. He should have known she was too smart to be fooled for long. She deserved better, she always had. He was greedy to think he could have her. She stepped forward, leaning up on her toes, and kissed him chastely on the cheek. “For luck,” she said quietly, and smiled. Fuck, she was beautiful. “Not that you need it.”

He tolerated the kiss, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. He didn’t trust himself to reply.

“I’ll be cheering for you,” she said, and she waved at him, starting to head off towards the general admission entrance.

He tried to call her name, but it stuck in his throat. He tried again, this time opting for a safer route, her old nickname. “Briefs!”

She paused and looked back at him. 

Vegeta approached her and unclasped the blue band about his wrist. He deftly wrapped it around hers - three times, because her wrist was so dainty - and closed the clasp. “I won’t be allowed to fight with this on,” he explained, his voice subdued.

“Oh, right. I’ll keep it safe for you,” she promised.

Vegeta nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. She squeezed his hand and headed off. 

He crossed his arms to keep them from betraying him. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, not to reach for her, not to hold her again or tell her any one of the embarrassing feelings he felt for her, not to call to her so that he might see her smile just for him, one last time. Vegeta watched her go until she was out of sight, lost amongst the crowd, and the emptiness he felt within him was devastating. He finally unfolded his arms and looked down at his hands, scowling in disgust at the blood on his palms from where his nails had been biting in to his flesh. With a heavy weight of foreboding tugging at the pit of his gut, Vegeta headed inside the hall where the other fighters gathered. Goku was waiting for him. The taller boy put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“How’d it go?” Goku asked kindly.

“Fuck off,” Vegeta snapped, jerking his shoulder out of Goku’s grip and walked past him.

Goku’s characteristic laugh followed after him. “That good, huh?”

“Just focus on the tournament,” Vegeta ordered, and Goku thankfully left him alone to stew in silence. Vegeta finished his preparations, wrapping his hands with bandages before he slipped on his gloves, and waited for the fights to commence.

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

The tension was thick, the tournament hall filled with excitement and hundreds of students. Many of them were green, innocents, awaiting to participate in their first major MMA event, totally unaware of the snake pit they were in. Vegeta could easily spot the the real competition, they were the boys who surveyed the crowd the same way he did, with narrowed eyes and a guarded posture. These boys knew what went on behind the scenes, that this was a place to eat or be eaten. For many, this was a big opportunity, a chance to be recruited into the ranks of various gangs or underground fighting arenas, a chance to settle old scores, win accommodations, and take home some money. 

The organizers dived the fighters into groups, and brackets were prepared. Dozens of mats had been set up on the floor to keep a steady stream of matches going at once, all the better to speed up the preliminaries, weeding the strong from the weak. The audience sat in chairs around the edges, much like any boxing or wrestling event. The morning progressed in a fast string of bouts, the arena filled with the sounds of cheering and fighting. Vegeta’s first few matches were against students of little consequence. He took them out quickly, barely even breaking a sweat as he advanced within the preliminaries. He was grateful to see that he could spot Bulma from the crowd, even see her cheering for him. In a fit of self indulgence he flashed her a small smile and a two fingered salute. She beamed at his acknowledgment. It made him feel better to have her there on his side.

 Around lunch time, Vegeta noticed someone familiar enter the crowd. 

Frieza moved to the VIP seating, his purple blazer and slicked back hair easy to distinguish, a couple bodyguards in suits trailing after him. No soon was Frieza sat than he spoke to one of his suits, and a moment later the guard left to carry out some errand. The other suit remained. Frieza surveyed the crowd, his eyes taking in everything before alighting upon Vegeta. And he smiled.

Vegeta returned the look impassively, giving Frieza nothing. How many years had he cringed away from that smile? How long had that smirk haunted his dreams, had it encouraged him to do things against his will, whispering honeyed threats against his father whenever he acted out, and all the while it had been locked in that awful death grimace, smiling at him incessantly, smile, smiling, _smiling_ …

Vegeta’s name was called and he stood for the next match. He fought and easily overpowered his opponent, putting on a bit of a show now that Frieza was there. When his arm was raised and his name announced as the victor, Vegeta glanced at Frieza, seeing that the Icejin watched him carefully.

Vegeta smirked, puffing up with confidence and challenge.

Frieza’s eyes narrowed.

It was gratifying to know that Vegeta could ruffle the Icejin’s feathers. He turned, hearing a familiar voice cheering for him and he found Bulma jumping up and down in her seat, shouting in support of his win. He smiled at her, but his eyes were pulled back to Frieza. The second suit was being fed some instructions by the Icejin, and soon he headed off, leaving Frieza unattended. 

The bait had been set. Vegeta suddenly felt hollow, wooden. If he’d been the praying type, perhaps he would have asked a higher being for their favor. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He left the mats and sat on the winners’ benches to await his next match and keep his stomach from churning.

It wasn’t until the semi-finals when the real fighting began.

Vegeta continued his winning streak, his strength and skills far beyond that of the average high school boy. After each victory he looked at Frieza, and his boss’ face regarded him back coldly. To the outside eye, Frieza was schooled nonchalance. To Vegeta, who knew him better, Frieza was _seething_. 

Before he knew it, the tournament had come down to the final 16 contestants. Goku had also advanced, but the other members of their MMA club had not been so lucky. Vegeta scowled, looking at the 16 names on the brackets. It would appear he’d finally get some serious fights, the first being against a short, chubby boy he knew well.

Guldo was one of Ginyu’s close friends, and had been one of the boys who regularly cornered Vegeta in the park to beat him up. Malnourished, outnumbered, out-skilled, Vegeta had never been able to beat him. But he was none of those things now, and with everything riding on this tournament, Vegeta was going to relish his opportunity for payback.  

“Well well, this tournament has gone down the drain if someone like you has made it to the finals,” Guldo sneered as they squared off in the ring. He wore an arrogant smile that Vegeta was only too happy to have the opportunity to punch. 

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing,” he smirked back. 

Guldo blinked, unnerved by Vegeta’s confidence. His eyes ran over Vegeta’s physique, noting the new musculature and relaxed pose. His eyes narrowed further, and he raised his guard warily. Vegeta’s grin widened predatorily.

“Fighters, are you ready?” the referee asked. “Touch gloves.”

Neither did. The referee waved them back, and they eyed each other from their corners. The whistle blew. 

Despite his chubby size, Guldo was fast. His jabs came quickly, almost appearing to bend time, and Vegeta knew from experience how hard those lightening jabs hurt; he still wore the scars of some of his worst. Vegeta dodged, ensuring he kept out of Guldo’s range, side-stepping and moving about in a circle. He watched as Guldo grew more and more frustrated, throwing attacks that didn’t land, unable to touch Vegeta. Guldo’s face twisted in outrage, maddened. He couldn’t hit Vegeta.

At the peak of his frustration, Guldo threw up his hands and turned to look at Frieza, a ‘ _what-am-I-suppose-to-do-with-this_ ’ look on his face. That look quickly changed to shock when Vegeta’s kick caught him in the side of the neck. Guldo staggered, his eyes going wide. He dropped to the mat, and Vegeta lunged on top of him, throwing punches until the referee blew the whistle and pulled him off. Vegeta’s hand was held up in victory, and he smirked, his bod vibrating with adrenalin and amusement that his victory had been so easy. He could win this, he knew he could.

Frieza wasn’t even pretending to look impassive now. His lip curled in agitation, his eyes burning with wrath, also seeing Vegeta’s potential to walk away with the winner’s trophy.

“You cheated,” Guldo whined, stumbling to his feet.

Vegeta sneered at him. “You turned your back on your enemy. _Not_ smart.”

“Do you think you’ll get away with this?” Guldo snarled at him. “Enjoy your victory, Vegeta. It’ll be your last.” The chubby boy walked unsteadily off the matt, and Vegeta exited from the opposite side, unconcerned by the threat.

Sixteen fighters became eight. Goku was also victorious, grinning and waving at him from the winner’s bench. Vegeta ignored him, already mentally preparing himself for his next fight. He was up against another of Ginyu’s lackeys; no doubt there was some match fixing going on. This time it was Jeice, a dark skinned, white haired boy with an obnoxious personality and an accent that Vegeta had always suspected was put on. 

Jeice was far more dangerous than Guldo; Vegeta knew he’d need to be more careful, but he was still itching for the fight and a chance to resolve issues against his old aggressors.

Jeice eyed Vegeta cockily as they entered the ring, bouncing on his feet, jabbing at the air experimentally. “Vegeta!” he greeted in his rolling accent. Vegeta ignored him. He waited, and when the whistle blew, the two boys attacked each other, grappling and throwing kicks and punches. Jeice was the first land a strike. Agony flared within Vegeta as he stumbled back, Jeice’s laughter mocking him. “How did that taste, you loser?” Jeice sneered.

 The familiar pain awoke a long buried hatred inside him. Vegeta roared and stopped holding back. He felt himself filled with strength, with violence, with wrath, and he lunged at Jeice, connecting a powerful punch that sent Jeice staggering. Vegeta laughed darkly at the fear he saw in the boy’s eyes.

“What are you _doing_?” Jeice hissed in panic, his words dripping with hidden meaning. Both of them knew Vegeta wasn’t even supposed to have made it this far.

Vegeta grinned. “I’m _winning._ ” He darted in, landing a resounding punch in Jeice’s solar plexus, and the boy choked, coughing, dropped to his knees. Vegeta stood over him, watching, enjoying the sight of Jeice struggling to breathe. He stretched out his hand and with a cocky, nonchalant shove, pushed Jeice over. Jeice toppled to the floor like a sad game of jenga. The referee came over, blowing his whistle, and Vegeta spat out his mouthguard, raising his hands in victory, smirking as the audience cheered, cheered for _him_. Even Frieza scowling at him from the crowd couldn’t diminish this moment of glory. Beating down the Ginyu squad was tasting far sweeter than Vegeta ever could have ever imagined. He wasn’t just beating them, he was _slaughtering_ them.

He looked at Bulma, seeing her cheer ecstatically. High on his winning streak and his new realized strength, Vegeta climbed onto one of the posts and stood up, towering over the ring, flexing his arms and roaring. The crowd ate it up, hollering with excitement. He could see Bulma grinning ear to ear at his showboating. She waved at him and he smiled back, flipping over on one arm, doing a few one-handed push ups, the crowd going nuts. He vaulted off before the referee could tell him to get out, landing on the floor as smoothly as a gymnast.

“Wow, nice moves, Vegeta!” Goku called with a smile as Vegeta approached him on the winning benches. Vegeta smirked at him, pleased by the praise. He laughed when he saw who Goku was up against, and laughed harder when Goku won, making Burter drop like a sack of potatoes. Another of Ginyu’s boys bit the dust. This was all going like a dream. Vegeta flashed Frieza a nasty smile.

And from high up in the crowd, Frieza smiled back at him.

 _Smiled_. 

It was as sobering as a bucket of iced water to the face. Vegeta felt his own smile fall, and along with it, his winner’s high. He was an _idiot_ , he’d almost lost sight of the end game, almost got too caught up in these petty victories. Agitated at himself, Vegeta glanced at the board to see the final pairing. He went stiff when he saw his next opponent’s name.

Ginyu: the strongest and most feared fighters within the Icejin, second only to Frieza. 

Vegeta had expected this, planned for it even. But expecting it and seeing it were two different things. His stomach turned in anxiety. He’d trained impossibly hard for this moment, sweated and bled and given up so much for it, but was it enough? 

Vegeta looked around and finally spotted his opponent leaning against a wall, one of Frieza’s suited goons whispering in his ear. And to his disquiet, Ginyu was looking _right at_ him. Vegeta narrowed his eyes. Ginyu was huge, powerfully built, with short hair dyed an unfortunate purple and his chest tattooed with two ugly, black horns. Ginyu grinned from a face that promised any interactions with him was going to be unpleasant. Vegeta knew only too well; that face had leered down at him from many a brutal beating.

The tournament was down to its final four. Vegeta, Ginyu, Goku and some other fighter whom Vegeta wasn’t familiar with, and didn’t need to be, since Goku fought the boy and promptly won. Now all Vegeta had to do was win his match…

Their names were called. Vegeta stepped into the ring, his palms sweaty, but he was careful not to show any hesitation as he slipped his mouthguard on. He’d spent his whole life being beaten down by Ginyu, taking their crap, for his father, for his short comings… He was done with it. He wasn’t about to let them do it again.

He didn’t even hear the referee speak or the crowd cheer, everything around him white noise. All that mattered was Ginyu. 

Ginyu smiled at him dangerously. Vegeta had seen that smile before, that same look had been there when Ginyu had broken him, when Ginyu had watched him cough up blood and scream over newly broken bones, when Ginyu had seen Vegeta’s eyes cloud over with pain and humiliation, knowing Vegeta could no longer get up and fight, knowing he’d lost. Again. _That_ was the smile Ginyu wore, his smile of victory. And their match hadn’t even started yet.

That _bastard_. How _dare_ he.

Vegeta clenched his jaw. He refused to touch gloves when the ref called for them to, not caring to put on airs with the likes of these two-faced brutes. The whistled shrilled. Vegeta kept his arms raised before his face and stepped in to meet Ginyu. 

“You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you,” Ginyu called out as the crowd cheered them on.

Vegeta didn’t reply, focused solely on Ginyu’s body language. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down even for a second. Ginyu was deadly. 

“I’m sure you’re aware by now that the boss isn’t happy,” Ginyu continued his banter, his tone almost friendly. “But just between you and me, I’m pleased as punch with this little rebellion, Vegeta. My hands have been _aching_ for a good punching bag. It just hasn’t been the same without you around.”

Vegeta frowned, but he didn’t raise to the bait. He weaved to the side, and Ginyu responded fluidly. They threw a couple experimental jabs at each other, but they easily slipped out of each other’s range. The two fighters circled cautiously, gauging each other, testing. 

But the truth of the situation soon became apparent to Vegeta. He felt a smile growing on his mouth. Ginyu hadn’t changed. His strength, his skills, even his attacks _hadn’t changed_. But Vegeta _had_.

He could win this.

He dodged to the side, watching Ginyu moved to meet his attack, but Ginyu didn’t anticipate his feint. He landed a punch in Ginyu’s side, the rush of victory sizzling through him. 

Ginyu stumbled, taking the full force of the blow. He turned, trying to recover, and Vegeta kicked him into the ropes of the ring.

Ginyu bounced back with a sneer. He brought up his hands to defend himself, and the two squared off once more, circling, watching, waiting.

Vegeta saw Ginyu’s weight shift but he was a fraction too late, and Ginyu’s leg caught him, tripping him. Before Vegeta could recover he was on the ground, tackled by Ginyu. Vegeta swore as the crowd cheered. He threw punches in a desperate attempt to rid himself of Ginyu’s weight; he knew he had little chance against Ginyu on the ground, Ginyu having the advantage in both weight and length of limbs.

They struggled on the floor, each trying to get the upper hand. Ginyu’s arms were wrapped around Vegeta’s middle, crushing him, _squeezing_. Vegeta tried to lever out, but no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t pull out. They were locked together, panting and struggling, caught in a stalemate.

Ginyu started laughing. Vegeta glared at him, aggravated. 

“…-change now.”

“What?” Vegeta snapped, still trying to wrestle free from Ginyu’s grip, struggling to draw in air.

“I said, you’d best change now.”

“Change _what_?” Vegeta grunted.

“Your tactic,” Ginyu explained with a sadistic grin. “Or someone’s going to get hurt, and I’m not talking about you for once.”

Vegeta only needed a second for the words to sink in. Realization hit like a freight train, and he panicked, looking out into the crowd, searching for Bulma. He saw her watching him, her face twisted in concern. But what caught his attention was her pendant - the dragon amber that dangled over her heart was glowing. No, not _glowing_ , it was illuminated, burning red from an outside source. From a laser point.

From a _sniper_ _sight_.

Vegeta felt the  blood drain from his face, and Ginyu must have felt him tense for he started laughing madly, his hold slipping. Vegeta snarled, using the opening to break free, elbowing Ginyu hard enough to knock him off. He stood up and Ginyu followed stumbling to his feet, still laughing even though he now had blood in his mouth. 

“ _That’s_ it, Vegeta. Keep attacking me. See what it gets you,” he goaded, his eyes alight with sadistic excitement. His stance was relaxed, leaving himself wide open, begging for Vegeta to attack.

Vegeta didn’t. He glanced over to where Frieza was and saw the bastard was watching him with an amused smirk. He and Ginyu were both waiting, watching to see if Vegeta kept fighting, kept pushing his luck, kept tempting them to punish him by assassinating her. Would they actually kill her just to prove a point? Vegeta doubted it; Bulma was far more valuable alive than dead… but then again, Frieza didn’t always make the smart choice when he could make a vindictive one. And either way, Vegeta couldn’t take that chance.

He just couldn’t. Not with her. Never with her.

He looked back at Bulma. She was cheering for him, relieved that he’d broken free of Ginyu’s hold. She was so beautiful, full of life, and Vegeta was struck by how amazing she was, how lucky he was to have her even though she knew the dangers, even though she had her doubts, despite all that, she still supported him, cheered for him. Loved him. She was far, far too good for him. He couldn’t risk them killing her. His pride, his vengeance, once the only things he valued more than life itself, was not worth _her_ life. 

The sniper’s sight remained over her heart. Only he could stop it. All he had to do was give up the match to Ginyu.

Vegeta lowered his guard, laughing wryly, weakly, down at the floor. This had been inevitable. He had known Frieza would retaliate in some way. Still, that he wouldn’t get his vengeance against Ginyu was _really_ going to smart, more so than the beating he was about to take.

Vegeta finally looked up, seeing Ginyu watched him, waiting for his choice. He made it. Vegeta lifted his hands in a half-hearted attempt to guard himself. Ginyu sneered and swung hard, showing no mercy. Vegeta took the hit, pretending to be slow in his block. He staggered into the ring’s ropes, the punch sparking lights before his eyes. His knees buckled but somehow he stayed upright. 

Hands fisted in his gi, and he looked up to see Ginyu throw him. Over and over, Ginyu toyed with him, throwing him about, landing a punch here, and kick there, hurting him but never enough to make the referee call the match, dragging the fight on as long as he could. It only took a few solid punches before Vegeta no longer had to pretend to be fighting poorly. After several blows that he’d purposefully not blocked, Vegeta was reeling, his balance off, his head fuzzy, his body wracked with pain. He probably had a concussion. Another brutal punch in the gut had him spitting up blood, and he dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air. The referee came over and asked if he was able to keep fighting.

“He’s fine!” Ginyu snarked, a warning to Vegeta not to take the easy way out.

Vegeta looked up, but not at Ginyu. Squinting from one eye, trembling in exhaustion, his gaze sought out Bulma. She had pushed her way to the front of the stands, her expression horrified, watching him get pummeled. It was humiliating that she had to see him like this. She was calling his name, her voice shrill with concern. 

But her pendant still glowed red. Goddamn them. God _damn them_. Vegeta curled his fingers into trembling fists and he looked away from her, nodding miserably at the ref. “I can fight,” he lied. The referee moved away, and Vegeta pulled himself up on wobbly legs. He could hardly stand, falling into Ginyu who shoved him back down. Vegeta groaned as his face was smashed into the mat, and his arm was wrestled behind his back. He knew he just had to tap out, that’s all he’d have to do, and it would be over…

 Suddenly Ginyu’s sickly, hot breath was on his ear. “Is that her, the little tail you betrayed us all for?” Ginyu asked him, yanking Vegeta’s head up so that he was forced to look at Bulma. Only she wasn’t alone anymore. Vegeta felt his heart flatline, his breath caught in his throat. Next to her, next to _his_ Bulma, Frieza was whispering in her ear, mirroring what Ginyu now did to him.

“What do you think the boss is telling her?” Ginyu asked sweetly, chuckling as they both watched Frieza’s mouth press right up against Bulma’s tresses to be heard over the cheering crowd. “Oh, actually, I know _exactly_ what he’s telling her,” Ginyu gloated. “The truth.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth, feeling cold despair sap what little strength he had left. He could only watch helplessly as Frieza’s lips curled in a cruel smile, his dark lips telling Bulma secrets that made her face fall, her eyes dimming, brimming with betrayal.

“How much does she know, _Prince_?” Ginyu asked him cruelly, twisting his arm harder, but it was nothing to the twisting of his heart. “Does she know that you’re one of us? That your father let you stay with her to gather secrets on Capsule Corporation? That you were meant to use her as a way in, to woo her, except you were dumb enough to actually fall for her in the process? Does she know about this tournament, _all_ of it? Did you tell her that her little bet was _our_ idea, that you were going to take a dive so we could help ourselves to some of that sweet Capsule cash? Hahaha, well, no matter if you did, because she knows now.” 

Bulma was looking right at him, her eyes shimmering in disbelief, her face crumpling as Frieza’s awful words burnt away her trust, every word breaking her faith in Vegeta just a little more. It was soul crushing, but Vegeta couldn’t look away. Ginyu pressed on, relentless. “She has no idea you’re throwing this fight for her, does she? I wonder what she’s thinking. She’s probably wondering why you aren’t fighting back, why you suggested that she bet on you, why you would _double cross her_ , even though _we_ know you tried to _double cross us, you piece of shit_. Look at her, Vegeta, look at those pretty tears, that broken heart you caused… well, better a broken heart than a dead one I suppose.”

His grip suddenly tightened, and he gave Vegeta a shake. “Don’t ever fuck with the Icejins, Vegeta. We’ll only fuck you back harder.” Ginyu suddenly let him go and stood over him, splaying his arms wide. “C’mon, _Prince_. Come at me. Hit me. The little trollop won’t give you the time of day anymore, so what’s the point protecting her? Come at me, hit me, I won’t stop you. You’ve got a free shot at me, Vegeta. Take it, for all the times I ground your ass in the dirt. Show me what you’re worth.”

Vegeta spat blood and looked up at Ginyu. More than _anything_ he wanted to take Ginyu up on his offer, smack him right in his smug, ugly face. But doing so would risk her life. It didn’t matter if she knew the truth, if she never forgave him. She shouldn’t. But he was damned if he’d let anything hurt her again. Vegeta pushed up onto his knees, wincing in pain, and held up his hand, flipping Ginyu the bird and a broken, bloody smile.

Ginyu tsked. Vegeta was helpless to stop Ginyu shoved as he shoved him down, and he curled up as Ginyu straddled him and started wailing on his body, throwing blow after blow after blow after blow…

The referee finally blew the whistle. It was the most bitter sweet sound in the world.

Ginyu stood up, holding up his bloody gloves in victory as the crowd cheered. Vegeta stayed curled on the matt, whimpering in pain, coughing up blood. When a doctor ran over to check on him, Vegeta pushed him away, grumbling that he was fine, knowing that he wasn’t. 

“I got you buddy.”

Vegeta peeled open his eyes and saw Goku by his side. The taller boy helped him up, and Vegeta begrudgingly let him.

“Gosh, Vegeta, I…” Goku said, words failing him as he helped Vegeta stumble off the matts. 

“Forget it. It’s up to you now,” Vegeta croaked, too ashamed to even look Goku in the face. 

Goku’s tone was surprisingly solemn when he replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll get him, for both us,” he promised.

Vegeta grunted and gratefully lowered down onto a bench. He waved Goku off to go prepare for his final match. He looked over fearfully to where Bulma had been, but she was gone. Her absence echoed the hole he felt in his heart, but at least _she_ didn’t have one. He searched the crowd, but he couldn’t see her anywhere, and Frieza had once again returned to his seat, looking terribly pleased with himself.

If Vegeta had been the kind of person who cried easily, he might have done so then. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. Instead, he sat with his aches and pains, wincing and gasping for air, and wondered why of all his wounds, his heart was the one that hurt him the most.

 

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 **AN** : Don’t look at me like that, baby. I know it hurts, it hurts so good.

Hope you liked this chapter and getting a glimpse of Vegeta’s POV finally. I also did some shitty art of Vegeta getting his ass handed to him by Ginyu, which you can see on twitter or AO3. I dare my better artists friends to do better :P 

Find more by me, LadyVegeets, on twitter, tumblr, FFnet, & Ao3.

Fanart shout-outs to: galacticshark17, aliena_chan, anne elizabeth, vegetapsycho, rut bisbe, nelicquele79 and goldenrosey101. Did I miss your name/art? LET ME KNOW I WANNA SEE IT, LOVE IT, CREDIT IT.

 

...Fanart by **Jacob Thomas:**

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/JacobThomas_prince_of_all_cats_VegetaFriends01_zpswkkg1wa6.jpg.html)

 

... fanart by me, lol, **ladyvegeets**  :

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/CrErVXjVIAAT2wR.jpg-large_zpstvxayqr8.jpg.html)


	28. 28 - Regicide

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.28 - Regicide**

 

Everything seemed fucked up. He was fucked up, beaten sore and bloody by Ginyu, a beating he’d willingly take again if it meant saving the girl he’d somehow, inexplicably, come to love, the same girl who now probably hated him, was likely crying because of him, cursing his existence. Vegeta wondered if she’d hold up her end of the plan still. 

But one thing gave him hope, however hallow it was and however painful it was to admit. Vegeta looked at the center ring, his eyes on the carrot-haired, clownish oaf standing in orange and blue; last name Son, first name Goku.

Goku was squaring off against Ginyu, still looking as fresh as when they’d first arrived seeing as none of his matches had proved to be a challenge for him. Even though Vegeta was now banking his hopes on Goku to win, it still rankled him, was still a blow to his pride that he had to rely on _Goku_ to avenge him, Goku, who was so impossibly skilled and strong when it made so little sense for him to be. He was a goddamn prodigy. But would it be enough? Ginyu was looking worse for wear, wearing some of the marks Vegeta had given him, but despite these he stood tall, confidently, and was smiling, as was Frieza, smirking down on them from the crowd. Neither Icejin looked worried about the coming battle with Goku, but then again, neither of them had been paying him any attention, so focused had they been on Vegeta and his attempt to upset the Icejin’s illegal gambling.

Just as Vegeta had hoped they would.

The whistle blew, and the fight commenced. Ginyu moved quickly throwing the first punch, and Goku avoided it with a simple tilt of is head. Goku grinned, and Vegeta found his mouth twisting up along with him. If there was one thing he could begrudgingly acknowledge about the fool, it was that Goku genuinely loved a good fight. And Vegeta also knew, from experience, how _grating_ fighting against that could be.

He glanced at Ginyu, watching as the thug threw blow after blow that Goku dodged. Ginyu’s face started to twist with frustration. Getting impatient, Ginyu threw a wild punch.

Goku caught it in his gloved hand. And laughed. “Ehehe, not bad!” He complimented.

Ginyu sneered, his eye twitching in fury. He launched a full-out attack, backing Goku up but he couldn’t land a single blow. Just before Goku was up against the ropes, he bought up his knee, catching Ginyu in the gut. 

Ginyu staggered back in surprise, clutching his gut, but Goku didn’t press the advantage. 

Vegeta gritted his teeth. “Don’t underestimate him, you idiot!” he shouted, but he doubted he could be heard over the cheering of the crowd. As if to prove him right, Ginyu’s next attack caught Goku in the shoulder, staggering the boy back, but Goku quickly recovered.

The two fighters battled, circling, dodging and blocking, neither one gaining the upper hand. The crowd was going insane, enjoying every close call. It was impossible to tell who was going to come out victorious.

Then Ginyu said something, the words lost in the crowd’s roars, but Goku heard, his face twisting in surprise. It was all the advantage Ginyu needed. He hit Goku hard, knocking him to the floor. Ginyu followed him down, straddling him, punching Goku over and over, pummeling him ruthlessly. 

Vegeta gritted his teeth, his hands fisting, his whole body tight. He wanted to scream in frustration, scream at Goku to GET UP but he knew it would be swallowed in the roaring of the crowd. The referee was inching forward, ready to the call the end of the match at the first sign of complete domination. Goku kept his hands raised, struggling to defend himself…

Out of nowhere, Goku’s hand dropped, fisted, and _swung_. His fist connected cleanly with Ginyu’s jaw, and the purple-haired fighter reeled, tilting back. And dropped to the floor. Goku staggered up but Ginyu wasn’t moving, out cold. The referee blew the whistle.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Vegeta slumped back with relief, awash with amazement. As the referee announced Goku the winner, holding up the boy’s arm, Vegeta felt something bubble up inside him. He started to laugh. He looked over at Frieza, and saw his boss’s face twisted into terrifying rage. It only made Vegeta laugh harder, the sound wheezing out of him, pained and bordering on the edge of hysterical. They’d won, and he knew it was going to cost him something terrible, but in that moment he didn’t care, because they’d beaten Frieza and it was _glorious_.

He was still laughing when two suited goons came and grabbed him, dragging him out of the hall while the crowd was still preoccupied with Goku’s victory and award ceremony. Vegeta didn't’ resist, he didn’t have the strength or the inclination. He knew there was no escape. 

Outside the sky was bleeding oranges and red, the shadows long, twilight fast approaching. The men dragged him to the back parking lot he and Bulma had scouted out earlier. He made sure not to look up at the security camera overhead. The men dropped him to the pavement, and when he tried to stand one of them kicked him in the backs of his legs, and he fell painfully to his knees.

“Vegeta,” a cold, familiar voice greeted him. Vegeta didn’t have to look up to know who it was, but he did anyway to stare the slimy bastard right in the eyes. Frieza stood before him, his purple suit immaculate, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’ve really gone out of your way to _piss me off_ this time, haven’t you?”

He looked up at the Icejin leader and smiled defiantly at him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I took the dive like you asked.”

Frieza glared at him. His hand lashed out, striking Vegeta’s cheek hard enough to snap his head to the side and cause his vision to blur. “You were _supposed_ to take the dive _before_ the semi-finals, as you well know! It took some heavy ‘encouragement’ to even _get_ you to give up to Ginyu, although how you managed to fight that boy on your own is impressive, I will give you that. I’d almost be impressed if you hadn’t brought along that stupid monkey friend and deliberately tried to mess up my plans!”

Vegeta laughed at the insult. “Monkey?”

Frieza struck him again and Vegeta felt blood well in his mouth. He spat it out with a grimace by Frieza’s shoes, the metallic taste bitter on his tongue. 

“I would have thought you’d be a little more contrite, Vegeta, but it appears you’ve totally lost your mind. Have you forgotten the position you’re in, that I can make things very miserable for you and your father, and all your little _friends_ that you’ve been acquiring?”

“Like my life isn’t miserable already,” Vegeta snarked back, earning himself another fist to the face.

Frieza pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his knuckles, sighing, aggravated. “Do you have _any_ idea how much your little stunt has cost us? But I suppose that was your _brilliant_ plan, wasn’t it? Well, thankfully things are not as bad as they could have been if you’d gone ahead and _won_. Still, what were you hoping to accomplish? Bankrupting us? Even if you _had_ won, our accounts would have only been set back a few months at best; that seems hardly worth the trouble of defying me. Did you hope to buy your freedom with your winnings? Laughable. Or were you simply trying to _annoy_ me? Well, you’ve _certainly_ achieved _that_ goal, Vegeta. In _spades_. I should have known better than to trust you with so much responsibility. You’re still painfully young, and what little control your pathetic father has over you only wanes each year. He promised that your living with the Briefs was going to be very beneficial to us, but it would seem the only person who has benefited has been _you_ , getting yourself all wrapped up with that stupid girl. Well, I hope her bed was comfy and that she was a good lay, because it’ll be the last bit of comfort you’ll enjoy for a long while. You’d better tell me _everything_ you know about her family, and I do mean everything, and oh dear me it had _better_ be good or I’m going to have to find my father a new Lieutenant General after disposing of the current one and his _DISOBEDIENT SON!_ ”

Vegeta stared down at the ground as Frieza rattled on. He flexed his hands, gathering his courage for what he was about to do. When the Icejin finished, Vegeta looked up, staring him dead in the eyes. For years he’d bowed to this man, had submitted to him, had taken his beatings, his orders, his abuse, letting it chip away at his pride, at his soul, had watched it do the same to his father and to countless others as well. But no more. He was better than that, he was more than that, _she’d_ seen it, _she’d_ nurtured it and helped him to _believe_ it. He wouldn’t go back to that life anymore, and he wouldn’t ever let it become hers… “Better to die as free men, than to live a lifetime of servitude,” he told Frieza firmly.

Frieza sneered and smacked him hard, sending Vegeta to the ground. “Cute. I see that school of yours has been teaching you something. Still, while I normally encourage intelligence, it seems to only be filling your head with _ideas_ , Vegeta, and those can be quite dangerous.”

Vegeta pushed off the ground, back onto his knees, rubbing his jaw. “This is tedious. If you’re going to kill me, could you hurry up and get on with it?”

Frieza turned to one of his lackeys and made a gesture. The suit headed off to a large SUV parked nearby and opened the back door. They dragged something out. No, not something, but _someone_.

It was Zarbon, or what was left of him. He looked even worse than Vegeta felt. Zarbon’s night with Frieza’s people hadn’t been kind. He barely looked human, dirty, bloodied, one of his hands completely messed up… Vegeta could only guess at some of the methods they’d used to torture him. He kept his disgust hidden, giving Frieza nothing.

The suit dropped the broken boy next to Vegeta. Zarbon groaned, curled on the ground. He stank of sweat, urine and blood.

“Perhaps you remember your old roommate,” Frieza said, indicating the miserable broken young man, unfazed by the horrendous sight. “He too has disappointed me, going behind my back and acting out against my wishes. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you boys. It seems you both need a reminder of the price of failing me.”

Vegeta steeled himself. Zarbon seemed to sense what was coming as well, weakly pushing up onto his knees. Frieza reached into his suit and pulled out a large handgun, the end modified with a giant suppresser. He raised the pistol, hovering it in the space between the two boys. He smirked, and aimed at Zarbon. Zarbon raised his crippled hand towards Frieza, trying to hold back the inevitable. “No, Frieza, Sir, please, I-”

_Bang!_

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

Bulma left the tournament, her mind awhirl with questions and doubts, anger and heartbreak. 

“ _See? Didn’t I tell you from the beginning that he was mine, always would be? We’ve been planning this for months, my dear. Vegeta always delivers; do be sure to thank your father for Capsule Corps’ kind donation to our organization.”_

Frieza’s words haunted her as she made her way home. Between his brutal revelations and watching Vegeta get beaten within an inch of his life, she was at her emotional limit. 

 _“Did he do a good job at wooing you? Our little stubborn Prince was never much of a romantic, but he does have his charm, doesn’t he? Don’t fret my dear, he knows how to take a beating, and he’s been prepared to take this one for the sake of the Icejin for a long time. How does it feel, knowing he’s not fighting for you, knowing he’s going to lose because I told him to? He betrayed you, everything he said to you, every kiss and gentle touch was all because I ordered him to do it, and I’m sure he enjoyed it because you’re a pretty little thing but he always comes crawling back to me when I call. Now, be a good dear and run along home before your_ stupidity _costs your family anything more than a few million. I’ll be sure to tell your_ lover _goodbye from you.”_

And just as Frieza said he would, Vegeta lost. He’d stared at her, his eyes dark and filled with a pain and fear that she’d never seen in them before, and he just stopped fighting back, letting Ginyu destroy him. She fled. 

Frieza wanted her to think she’d been betrayed, and she had been, but not for the reasons Frieza tried to make her believe. His cruel taunts didn’t upset her; she knew what she and Vegeta had was real. Losing the money didn’t upset her either, there had always been the risk that it would be lost, and it was chump change compared to the vast wealth of her family. No, what upset her was the _secrets_. Vegeta hadn’t told her everything. Vegeta hadn’t told her _anything_.

He’d made it sound like this tournament was going to be some great opportunity to blindside the Icejin, to buy back his freedom, but he’d known about it long before then. He’d clearly been ordered to lure her there, encourage her bet on him, knowing he’d lose. It was meant as a double-cross her, but he was going to use it as a chance to double-cross _them_. Yet he’d never told her any of that. He’d betrayed her trust, taken all the risk upon himself like the stubborn jerk that he was.

She was furious, and upset, but still had a job to do. Bulma headed home to where the security camera feed was being monitored and recorded. There would be time to yell and berate Vegeta later. Since he’d lost, they wouldn’t be blackmailing the Icejin with the tournament winnings, so  she was sure as hell going to make sure they could blackmail the Icejin with the video evidence of their illegal gambling operation. At least Vegeta had the foresight to come up with a back up plan.

She got home and raced to the computer she’d set up, but she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Instead of finding a money exchange taking place, she saw Frieza with a couple of tough guys in suits, and before them, a badly beaten Vegeta on his knees. She sat down just as Frieza smacked him, hard. 

Bulma felt herself go numb in shock. She hastily turned the volume on, making sure everything was still being recorded properly. She fumbled for her phone, intending to call for help but was stopped when she heard Vegeta speak.

“This is tedious. If you’re going to kill me, could you hurry up and get on with it?”

Her phone fell from her fingers. Bulma stared at the screen, wide eyed, filled with paralyzing disbelief at his words. _What_ did he just say?!

She watched as one of the men brought out Zarbon, and she gasped, appalled to see the state he was in. As much as she loathed Zarbon, his condition was ghastly. She heard Frieza speak, but her mind could barely process his words, still reeling in shock at Zarbon’s disfigurement.

Then she saw the gun.

Bulma put a hand over her mouth, her eyes bugging as Frieza pointed the weapon. Zarbon started pleading…

The gunshot was dull but still audible, the suddenness of it making Bulma jump. Zarbon slumped lifelessly to the ground. He didn’t move. Blood pooled about him. Bulma whimpered, horrified. Dead… He was dead. She’d just watched someone _die_.

Her eyes flicked wildly over to Vegeta in the video. His expression was stoic, emotionless to the fact that someone he’d _known_ most of his life had _just been murdered_ right in front of him. 

Frieza raised the weapon, pointing it now at Vegeta. Bulma sobbed, terrified. She scrambled to pick up her phone and punched in 911, her eyes transfixed to the screen. Vegeta looked at Frieza unflinchingly, saying nothing, asking for no mercy, staring at his death with an unwavering gaze. 

Frieza smiled and slowly lowered the gun. “Hmm, perhaps you’ll be useful yet.”

Bulma felt dizzy in relief. The operate answered the phone and Bulma reported a shooter at the event center, one man already shot, another being held hostage. She was giving the address when she saw movement in the video, someone approaching Frieza. The new man sauntered up to Frieza, impossibly tall and broad shouldered. As soon as he was side by side Frieza, Bulma saw the resemblance. “Father,” Frieza greeted. “What are you-”

Mr. Cold leaned in and whispered something in his son’s ear. The operator assured her help was on the way, and Bulma ended her call, letting her hand fall into her lap as she watched the screen, waiting with trepidation to see what would happen next, praying for the police to get there soon.

Whatever Mr. Cold had told him, Frieza looked far from pleased. “WHAT?!” he screamed.

To everyone’s shock, Vegeta started laughing. He grabbed his side as he chuckled, looking up at the two men with dark amusement on his face. “Have you finally figured it out?” he mocked them.

Frieza’s face twisted into something unholy to behold. “This…. This is _your_ doing?” Frieza seethed, spitting with rage. He raised his hand, still holding the gun, and pistol-whipped Vegeta. Bulma cried out, grabbing the screen, feeling tears start to run down her face. 

Vegeta doubled over, his head bowed as he spat up blood. He looked up at the Colds, grinning painfully, his teeth red. “Is it starting to sink in now, Frieza?” he goaded. “I finally _got_ you. I was _never_ one of yours, I only played the part because I had to, but I’m _done_ with that now. And if you think I was ever with her because of you, you’re sorely deluded. I’d rather die than tell you one singled goddamn thing about her, or her family, you piece of _shit_.” Vegeta gave a hacking laugh, then pointed at Zarbon’s body. “Even he saw that. And you just killed the one sorry bastard that was actually still loyal to you, hahaha…” Vegeta continued to laugh weakly. He looked at Frieza, his eyes burning with a cold, black fire. “You wanted me to play her, but all this time I’ve been playing _you_. Tell me, Frieza, just how _fucked_ are you now, with all the money you lost because of me and Goku?”

_Goku? What did Goku have to do with-_

Frieza roared and raised his foot, kicking Vegeta in the face, knocking Vegeta backwards. He raised his leg again but the older Cold pulled him back, looking impatient. “We don’t have time for this, son. We need to handle the situation before word gets out that we can’t make good on our debts and an all out war ensues.”

Frieza tried to get himself under control. Vegeta was still reeling from the kick, clutching his face, blood oozing from between his fingers. Frieza glared down at him, breathing heavily through his nose. He grabbed Vegeta’s hair and lifted the boy back onto his knees. When Vegeta was  upright, swaying unsteadily on his knees, Frieza raised his gun, pressing it against Vegeta’s chest. “I suppose you think you can negotiate?”

Vegeta smiled through his own blood. “With you? _Ha_.”

Frieza smiled humorlessly. “Smart boy. I’ll miss that. Pity. Any last words, you pathetic maggot?”

Vegeta lowered his hands to his sides, his fists clenching, then relaxing, oddly calm. “Yeah…” he said, and looked up at the camera. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.” His words were barely audible as he looked right at her.

Bulma felt her eyes widen in horror, her heart beating beneath her chest like a death toll. 

_BA-BUM…_

Frieza pulled the trigger. The muffled sound of the pistol echoed in the parking lot. Vegeta fell down.

Someone was screaming. It was awful, ear shattering, soul rendering. She didn’t even realize it was her until she clapped a hand over her mouth and the sound muffled. She couldn’t stop screaming as she looked at Vegeta’s lifeless body, only his hair moving, the wind tugging at the ends. 

“That was rash,” Mr Cold chastised his son. “Now we’ll have to replace the father as well.”

“Good,” Frieza sneered. “He was lying to us about sending Vegeta to spy on the Briefs, that, or his son was deceiving him too. Either way he’s clearly of no use to us anymore either. Fuck these useless Saiyans. I’ll eradicate them all.” Frieza sneered down at Vegeta’s body with contempt, then suddenly his head jerked up, and he and his father stared off in the same direction, hearing something. It took a few seconds for the sound to reach the camera’s microphone, but when it did it became clear why the Cold’s were suddenly scurrying to leave. Help had finally arrived. Too late. They left Vegeta or Zarbon’s bodies, jumping into their SUVs and peeling out before the police could corner them in.

Bulma left too, launching to her feet. She had to get back to the tournament grounds, she had to save Vegeta before he bled out. A cold voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Vegeta was telling her he couldn’t possibly have survived a gunshot like that to the chest at point blank range, but she ignored it.

Bulma got on the fastest motorcycle in her father’s garage and peeled out, not caring that she didn’t have a license. She didn’t even remember the drive over, her mind fried with worry. She sped to the tournament venue and abandoned the bike when she couldn’t go any further, the area already cordoned off by the police. They’d clearly taken her phone call seriously because the place was abuzz with first responders, dozens of police cars and ambulances blocking the streets, and there was a huge crowd, no doubt people from the MMA event having spilled out into the parking lot to see what all the sirens were about. Bulma struggled to push her way through the crowd. She was still crying, half sobbing, half screaming for people to let her by. “Move! Get out of the way, I-I need to get through to him!!”

“Bulma?” A familiar voice called to her, and Bulma paused, seeing wild, spiky hair move towards her. _Like a carrot top_ , she thought inanely to herself.

“Goku, where is he?” Bulma asked when her friend reached her.

Goku wasn’t looking in the best of shape, beaten up from the tournament, yet it wasn’t his wounds that shocked her, but his expression. He looked pale, stricken. Almost nothing fazed Goku, he was always so easy going, but the expression he wore now was chilling. She’d seen it on him only once before, a few years back when Krillin had been very sick. The doctors had told everyone to prepare for the worst. Thankfully, Krillin had recovered, but Bulma would never forget that look of fear on Goku’s face. He wore it now too, and it shocked her more than the police and crowds and sirens did.

“Bulma,” Goku said, his voice so full of sorrow that she instantly wanted to turn from him, to shut out whatever he was going to say. She couldn’t accept it. 

“No,” she sobbed, pushing him away from her but Goku wouldn’t let her go, reaching out and taking her shoulders in his strong hands.

“Bulma, listen-,”

“No, _you_ listen!” she demanded, trying to wrench out of his grip. “Vegeta’s in trouble! We have to help him, Goku, we have to find him, we have to…”

“I know, Bulma,” Goku said kindly, but his fingers were like iron, keeping her from running to where she’d last seen Vegeta on the security footage. “Listen… Something terrible has happened, Bulma.”

“We have to go to him, Goku!” Bulma insisted. They were drawing a crowd. She didn’t care. Tears were running down her cheeks unchecked, and she didn’t care about them either. The only thing she cared about was getting to Vegeta in time, but Goku wasn’t _letting_ her. “If you’re not going to help me, then let me go!” she screamed at him, trying to shove him off.

“Bulma, _Vegeta’s dead_!” Goku shouted, raising his voice and giving her a gentle shake. “He was shot through the heart. There was nothing they could do… He’s… he’s dead, Bulma…”

Bulma felt herself go still. Her breathing was eerily loud in her ears. Distantly, with scientific detachment, she knew she was hyperventilating. She knew she was in shock. 

She knew Vegeta was dead.

Bulma’s knees went weak and Goku had to support her so she wouldn’t fall, gently helping her to the ground. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent over, a rising, horrible keen building up inside her. She started wailing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth, sobbing more wretchedly than she ever had in her whole life.

Goku stayed with her, trying to console her. She heard him apologize, blaming himself. “I didn’t know, oh God, Bulma, I’m so sorry… He didn’t tell me all the details, if I had known, if he’d only told me the whole story. Bulma, I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

She didn’t care. She thought she was going to be sick. She struck the ground with her fists again and again until the edges of her palms stung and bled, and Goku had to grab her hands to keep her from hurting herself further. 

Everything had been taken from her, everything she cared about, gone, because of one callous pull of a finger, Frieza’s finger. 

 _Frieza_. It was all because of _him_. 

Bulma looked up, her despair twisting into rage. She hadn’t even noticed that Goku had stood up to engage an officer whom had seen her distress and wanted to inquire if she was alright. Bulma stood on shaky feet and ran over to them, grabbing the officer by the shirt, her eyes fixing on him with wild intensity. “I know who did it!” she said feverishly.

The officer reeled back, and Goku tried to delicately pry her hands from his shirt but she ignored both of their discomfort, words tumbling from her mouth. 

“It was the Colds, it was Frieza Cold! _He_ did this, he did _all_ of this. He-”

“Ma’am, calm down,” the officer told her firmly, but not unkindly, seeing she was greatly upset and no doubt Goku had informed him she’d known the boy who’d been shot and killed. “Did you witness the attack, do you have any proof to these claims?”

“Yes!” she said, shaking with adrenalin. Hysterical, she was hysterical she knew, but she couldn’t control herself. If nothing else, Frieza wouldn’t get away with this; Vegeta would be the last person he ever killed. “I have the footage, the cameras, they’re mine,” she stammered, struggling to get the words out coherently, her thoughts tripping over themselves.

The officer and Goku both looked up to where she pointed at the security cameras. Goku’s face lit up with recognition. “Capsule Corp cameras?”

“Yes, yes!” Bulma said, frantically nodding.

The officer sighed and shook his head. “We’ve already checked with the security here, someone turned off the recording devices.”

Bulma’s face twisted into a maniacal grin. “No! Not at Capsule Corp they didn’t,” she said, letting out a small, hysterical laugh. “We have our own system that safeguards the cameras’ recordings, I have it, _all_ of it, because…”

 _Because of Vegeta_. The thought hit her like a blow to the chest. Vegeta had been _adamant_ that she get the footage of the tournament grounds, he’d _drilled_ it into her over and over again. He had _known_. It was never about getting footage of some illegal gambling handoff. It was about getting footage of their cruelty as they punished an Icejin who’d gone AWOL.

He had known this would happen all along. Prepared for it. _Planned_ for it.

 _I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise_. 

Bulma let go of the officer, backing away in rising dismay. The officer was pressing her with more questions, wanting to know if she really had the security recordings, but she was deaf to him now, in shock. One of her hands went to her belly, the other hovering over her mouth in horror. Vegeta had been planning this for weeks, possibly months, his ultimate trap to get the Colds. All it had taken was his _life_.

Oh god… he’d made love to her last night, knowing he’d never do so again…

She _hated_ him. Bulma hated Vegeta like nothing she’d ever hated in her life. “You jerk!” she whispered hoarsely as she collapsed to the ground. “You _asshole_. You stupid, arrogant, selfish…” she choked off, sobbing too hard to continue. There were no counter insults, no huffed response or wolfish grin or furious scowl or hungry kiss…

And there never would be again.

Bulma curled up on herself and wept and wept and wept. She clutched her dragon-amber pendant, holding it as if by sheer force of will she could wish him back, as if the solid weight of it could return him to her. More than anything in the world she wished to have Vegeta back, would have given anything, _anything_ for it to be so.

“We should take her somewhere more private,” the officer told Goku, and she felt Goku lift her up in his arms, the officer calling on his radio to report a possible lead in the case. Bulma didn’t protest, letting Goku carry her, uncaring what happened to her anymore, detached from the world around her, limp in his arms.

There was a crackling sound as the officer’s radio responded and he answered, speaking to someone she couldn’t hear.

“Is she Bulma Briefs?” the officer suddenly asked Goku.

“Yes,” Goku replied, a little uncertainly.

“We need to leave right away. She’s needed at the hospital.”

“Why?”

“Her husband is asking for her.”

 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 **AN:** O_O

 

Find more from LadyVegeets on twitter, tumblr, FFnet, and AO3 (with fanart).


	29. 29 - Sorry (w/ FANARTs)

**Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.29 - Sorry**

 

Bulma crashed through the entryway, the doors bursting open with a loud bang in her wake. She rushed to the front desk. “Vegeta Saiyan! O-or Briefs. Vegeta Briefs. I’m here for Vegeta, h-he’s my husband, he was shot, at the event center, they said he was asking for me?” she blurted out, not even ashamed about her lie.

The nurse somehow understood and looked through her charts. Bulma waited in anguish for the nurse to find Vegeta’s name, each second ticking by feeling like hours. 

“Please,” Bulma added in a small, broken voice, pleading to the universe as much as she was to the nurse.

The nurse finally found him in her records. “Yes, he was admitted to surgery. You can wait in lounge 302.”

Bulma felt herself grow faint in relief. “He’s _alive_?” she asked, barely able to choke the words out. “How is he?”

“I can’t say, dear, you’ll have to wait for the surgeon.”

“But he’s alive?” Bulma insisted doggedly. “If he’s in surgery, he must be alive right?”

“I don’t know,” the nurse apologized.

Before Bulma could badger the poor woman further, she felt gentle hands pull on her. She looked up, seeing Goku hovering over her, giving her a concerned look. “Let’s go wait,” he suggested.

Bulma relented and nodded, letting Goku lead her away to the designated lounge. 

“He has to be alive, right?” she asked him as they went, wiping tears from her eyes. “They wouldn’t be operating on him if he was dead.”

“I… suppose they’re trying…” Goku said, his tone woefully pessimistic. 

“S-so there’s a chance!” _He had to be, he_ asked _for her_. She clung to that ray of hope like a lifeline, desperate. “He must be alive, o-or why would they be trying to save him?”

Goku’s mouth was pulled thin, his lips pale. “I don’t know, Bulma. I really hope so, but… I saw Vegeta being put into the ambulance, I heard what they said…”

“Well you heard _wrong_ ,” Bulma snapped back at him. “Why else would they say he asked for me then, huh?”

Goku still looked skeptical. She wanted to hit him for it. Why was he so opposed to the idea that Vegeta might be alive? He and Vegeta were friends, weren’t they? Why was Goku being such an ass?

They reached the lounge and thankfully no one else was there because Bulma was too wound up to be considerate to anyone else’s space. She paced the room, biting her fingernails. Goku gave her a pitying look. “Bulma,” he started to say, then looked around to see if they were truly alone. The officer hadn’t followed them, staying back in his vehicle to make some calls. It was just the two of them. He gently grabbed her arms and steered her into a chair before looking down at her with a serious expression. “Bulma, listen. Who else would benefit from bringing you here by claiming to be your ‘husband’?”

“What?” she asked dumbly. Her mind was a mess, unfocused, and she struggled to bring the desperate threads of her attention onto what Goku was saying.

Goku’s fingers gripped her the arms of her chair tighter. “Bulma, think about it. What’s more likely, that Vegeta recovered from a _bullet in the heart_ to ask for you, or that someone else claimed to be your husband? Someone like Frieza.”

“…What?” she asked again, weaker this time, a cold dread starting to consume her.

Goku gave her a stern, worried look. “I think this is a trap. We need to be careful. Frieza could have lured you here to clean up _lose ends_.”

Her lip trembled, trying to fight his logic. “How do you…?” she asked, confused. Terrified. Since when did Goku know what was going on?

“Vegeta told me everything,” he said brusquely. He paused, thinking, his mouth thinning. “Well, apparently not _everything_. I didn’t know he was going to _sacrifice_ himself or I never…”

Bulma started crying and she hit Goku in the arm. She didn’t want to hear it. “No, you’re wrong. _Vegeta_ asked for me because he’s _still alive_ ,” she insisted. Pleaded. This wasn’t a trap, it couldn’t be. Not because she was scared of Frieza, but because if Goku’s theory was correct, it meant Vegeta hadn’t asked for it. 

Because he couldn’t. 

Because he was dead.

“Bulma-”

“NO I DON’T _CARE_!” she shouted at Goku. _You’re being unreasonable_ , a voice eerily like Vegeta’s told her, but she crushed it down deep inside herself, steadfastly ignoring it. “YOU’RE WRONG AND I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT ANYMORE. WHAT DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT ANY OF IT.”

Goku grabbed her arms, trying to settle her down. “More than you think,” he said firmly. “I know that this tournament meant Vegeta’s freedom from the Icejin. I know that we’ve been training hard for it, for _months_. I know that Vegeta would have done anything, _anything_ to keep you safe, keep you out of all of it. And I know that he gave me his Capsule card to withdraw more money than I’ll probably ever see again in my life, just to make a second bet behind your back, a bet on _me_ winning because Vegeta knew they’d _never let him_. That was his plan, he knew that between the money they lost on him advancing beyond the semi-finals, and on me winning instead of Ginyu, the Icejin would be forced to negotiate with us… or so he told me, but I guess that last part was a lie.”

Bulma sat, stunned, struggling to process Goku’s words. Goku knew? Goku had been in on this? Vegeta had _confided_ in him?

Bulma didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. Goku pulled her in against his shoulder and held her, rubbing her back as she cried. There were so many unanswered questions, and a fear deep inside her that they’d never be answered, because Vegeta was gone. He’d died for her, for his freedom, and she’d never get to see him again. Goku held her, comforting her as she grieved…

“Jeez. Who died?”

She and Goku startled, breaking apart. Their eyes popped open, stunned at what they saw. Sat in a wheelchair in the middle of the lounge, covered in bandages, cuts and bruises but otherwise looking _perfectly fine,_ was Vegeta.

Bulma felt the air knocked out of her. She couldn’t breathe.

_He was… alive?!_

Goku reacted first, springing up, taking two running steps and hugging Vegeta in a brutal bear hug. “VEGETA!”

Vegeta cried out in pain. “Ah! Get OFF me you asshole, that hurts!” he snarled, trying to shove Goku away to little avail. The nurse who’d wheeled him in smiled and walked off, leaving the three of them to catch up.

Goku laughed, the sound wetter than usual. He pulled back and punched Vegeta in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You’re alive!” Goku exclaimed happily, ignoring Vegeta’s complaint, overjoyed to see him sitting there looking well. “Th-they said you were dead! Shot through the _heart_. I heard them! I _saw_ you. You were covered in blood, you weren’t even moving. Wow, I just… Wow, I can’t believe it!”

Vegeta grimaced at Goku’s enthusiasm. His eyes slid over to look at Bulma. 

She was frozen in her chair by the sight of him, astonished, undone by a torrent of emotions, unable to believe he was there, talking, _alive_. Vegeta looked so totally fine. After everything she’d been through, it was too surreal. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. She’d been _mourning_ for him just seconds ago! 

When she didn’t react, Vegeta lowered his eyes, his fingers curling up. He turned his attention back to Goku, but didn’t quite look either of them in the eyes. “They must have been talking about Zarbon,” he suggested, his voice flat.

“Who?” Goku asked.

“Never mind,” Vegeta sighed, irritated. “What’s the status report? Where’s Frieza?”

“Frieza? Uh, no idea, he left the scene before the police arrived,” Goku admitted.

Vegeta grimaced and rubbed the bandages that were over his chest. Bulma watched his fingers knead the spot she’d seen him take the bullet. How… how was he still alive? 

“We need to act fast,” Vegeta finally said. “Did you call my father yet?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Goku admitted, looking sheepish. “Bulma was too-”

“Okay, never mind. I’ll call him. We also have to get the security footage to the police ASAP. We need to get it out as quickly and to as many people as possible, the Icejin have contacts in the force, so we want to make sure this doesn’t get hushed up. We _do have_ the footage, right?” he asked, looking again at Bulma.

She still couldn’t speak, couldn’t even find the power to nod. She had the irrational fear that if she acknowledged him this whole scene would crumble, shattering the illusion that he was really there. That he was really okay.

Goku cleared his throat and answered for her when she didn’t. “Uh, yeah. She got it. You know our Bulma, she’s a smart girl.”

“Yeah,” Vegeta agreed, his eyes showing his uncertainty at her refusal to respond to him.

Goku looked between the two of them. He cleared his throat and patted Vegeta on the shoulder, getting up. “Well, I’ll um… go find the officer and start the ball rolling.” He left the lounge.

It was just the two of them.

Vegeta watched Goku leave, then slowly looked back at her. Bulma felt her heart stop, her eyes filling with tears. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at him, his ‘death’ replaying over and over in her mind, seeing him fall down after Frieza pulled the trigger, hearing Vegeta’s words, his apology for breaking his promise echoing in her mind.

Vegeta’s brow creased, his mouth pulling down. For a moment they both sat, unsure what to say. Then Vegeta grunted, painfully heaving himself out of his wheelchair. Bulma watched with wide eyes as he approached. He stood before her, looking down at her with a stern expression.

He heart was hammering frantically in her chest.

And then he dropped to his knees, humbling himself before her. He grabbed her legs, and pressed his brow against her shins.

“Bulma…” he choked out.

She let out a small cry, her name on his lips breaking her. Unbidden tears rose and spilled down her cheeks, dripping into her lap. She raised her hands, hovering them over his dark, spiky hair, afraid that when she touched him her hand would slip through his image… but they didn’t. She pushed her fingers into his hair, so thick and coarse and familiar, and the tight coil of tension inside her snapped. She curled over him, wrapping her arms about his head and shoulders, hugging him to her possessively. _He was alive_. She sobbed wretchedly. “I thought you were dead!” she wailed.

He hugged her legs tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Her fingers tightened on him, refusing to let him go. “You made me watch that! You _knew_ , you knew it would happen, and you made me watch that, you _jerk_!!”

“I know. I’m sorry…”

“You didn’t tell me what they’d planned, what _you’d_ planned. You _lied_ to me!”

“I did. I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_? _You’re_ sorry?” she asked shrilly, and she thumped her fist on his shoulder. She felt him wince in pain but he took it without complaint which only made her feel worse. Bulma pulled back from their embrace, her lip trembling. “H-how could you do that to me, Vegeta? How c-could you? You stupid, selfish jerk. I hate you. I hate you so much, I _hate_ you…”

His fingers flexed on her legs, his shoulders hunching. His voice was hoarse when he replied. “… I’m sorry, I… I’ll leave…” His hands started to slip from her and he began to push away.

Bulma clutched him back tighter. “Stop. Look at me, you idiot.”

He hesitated, but steeled himself and raised his head. He could only glance at her for a moment before he had to look off to the side, his brow pulled into a defensive scowl, his eyes swimming with uncertainty.

She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her, and kissed him. His eyes widened, his breath hitching against her lips, surprised. “But…” he stammered, thrown off.

“If you _ever_ leave me again, I will hunt you down and _castrate_ you,” she whispered against his lips. 

He stared at her in amazement. She returned his look, letting a small, coy smile grow.

His eyes widened further, and then he grabbed her, his hands clutching her head and dragging her in for a needy, consuming kiss. His weight forced her knees to part and he pressed in closer, his body pushing hers back into her chair. They kissed at each other, greedy for affection, for confirmation that they’d both survived and were okay, not just physically but emotionally. Her fingers twisted in his hair, keeping them together, and she wrapped her legs about him, needing to feel every powerful inch of him against her, reassuring her that he wasn’t going to disappear on her any time soon. He winced, flinching in pain as she pressed on one of his injuries.

“How are you even alive?” she asked in wonder, her breathing heavy from their kiss, her eyes raking his bandaged body.

He gave a devilish, lopsided grin. “You can thank your own genius for that.”

“What?”

“Your training suit,” he explained, looking smug. “The one you made for our class project. I was wearing it under my gi.”

Bulma blinked. Then she reeled back in horror. “Are you CRAZY. You bet your life on that _prototype_? It’s not even SUPPOSE to be bullet proof, you _idiot_!”

Vegeta smiled wryly. “Well it was better than nothing.” He looked down, tapping the bandage over his heart. “It didn’t stop the bullet entirely, but it was enough to spare me any serious injury. They didn’t even have to cut me open much, they just extracted the bullet. Your _prototype_ saved my life.”

Bulma was trembling in rage, incredulous. It was a goddamn _miracle_ that Vegeta was alive. “Why didn’t you _tell me_! I could have designed you something better!”

Vegeta scoffed. “Oh right. Like you would have let me go ahead with the plan knowing there was a chance I’d get shot. Besides, he could have shot me in the head and then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Why do you think I kept this from you in the first place?”

Bulma fisted her hands, her face hot in fury. “I can’t _believe_ you. If you weren’t so injured, I’d slap you stupid right now!”

“I know,” he said, giving her a soft, affectionate look. “I’m sorry.”

“Argh! Stop saying that, it’s creepy coming from you,” she grouched, side-eyeing him. He smirked at her and leaned in, pressing their brows together.

“Sorry.”

“Jerk,” she spat sullenly.

He kissed her nose. “Sorry.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her the spot where her jaw met her neck. “I’m so sorry, Bulma.” Then he hugged her, holding her close, squeezing her tightly against him.

She felt her throat close up and she hugged him back, burying her face against him, squeezing away tears, so thankful that she could hold him. Alive.

“Bulma,” he said, his tone becoming serious. “I couldn’t tell you everything because I couldn’t risk it, I had to make sure you’d react realistically to their threats. I needed them to focus on you so that they wouldn’t suspect Goku. They had to think they’d won, that they’d gotten to me by getting to you…” He tightened his hold on her further. “Bulma, you _have_ to know I was never with you because of any orders. That was all a lie. My dad told them that I would spy on you so that the Icejin would let me stay with you, but it was all a ruse, I swear.”

“I know,” Bulma said, believing him. What they’d shared, what she’d seen in him, could never be faked. She trusted him. Loved him.

“And whatever Frieza told you at the tournament-” he started to say.

“It’s okay,” Bulma interrupted. “I know Frieza is a lying jerk, and I know they forced you to take that dive, I mean, I could see Ginyu talking to you, and I knew what losing that fight meant to you. They must have had something good on you to force your hand like that.”

She pulled back, trying to see Vegeta’s face. He looked away, down, tracing his fingers over her amulet that rested against her heart, his face pinching into a frown. “Yeah…” He raised his eyes, their black depths swimming with something that looked haunted. “Losing was nothing compared to what they would have taken.”

Bulma swallowed, suddenly nervous. She didn’t know what he meant, but she got the feeling that he was talking about something personal, something related to her, and she also got the feeling she was better off not knowing the specifics. Vegeta looked away from her, rubbing his chest wound again. It reminded her that she’d so very nearly lost him, at what a huge gamble he’d taken to be free of the Icejins, and that despite her and Goku’s minor roles, he’d still taken the majority of the burden on himself. “Vegeta. I know you weren’t trying to double-cross me, but it still hurt that you didn’t tell me everything. And what the hell was with you including _Goku_ in your plans?”

Vegeta huffed, looking uncomfortable. “I needed him to place another bet. I was ordered to take an early dive to rig the games, but by not doing that, it cost them money. The more I advanced, the more expensive it became for the them, and the more desperate they became to stop me. I knew they would try, knew they’d be watching you and me, and in doing so, they’d never look twice at Goku, despite him being… undeniably good,” Vegeta grit out grudgingly. “No one was expecting Ginyu to lose. Ginyu _never_ loses. So when Goku won, the Icejin lost _big_. And Frieza was _pissed._ I knew he’d do something drastic, and I knew if we could get that on film, get him to admit to what he’d did, we could bring down his empire. Legally. Like you wanted.”

“Except for the part where you’d _die!_ ” she chided. “You broke your _promise_.”

He sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to, but you’re right. I did. I did it for you.”

Bulma felt her jaw set. “You don’t get to decide that. Do you have _any_ idea how upset I was? _Am_?”

He looked down at her lap, contrite, saying nothing.

She was still mad, still hurt, still terrified at how close she’d nearly come to never seeing him again. But somehow, inexplicably, it had all worked out, and he was here, alive, and really, that’s all that mattered right now. And that he, _Vegeta_ , actually looked cowed, was kind of amazing in and of itself. 

Wanting to break the awkward silence, Bulma shook her head. “I still can’t believe you trusted Goku to help you, or that you were banking on _him_ to win. Who are you?” she teased.

Vegeta made a face. “Yes, well… Don’t go spreading that around.”

“What?” she asked, starting to smirk. “That you and Goku Son are best buddies?”

Vegeta’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Ugh, woman, _please_. Are you trying to make me ill?”

Bulma laughed. “Aw, Vegeta, you’re blushing. Is Goku your first boy friend?”

Vegeta flinched back, his face going pink, looking at her aghast. “What?! Of _course not_ , the HELL are you blabbering about?!”

She snickered. “Oh my god he _is_ and you don’t know how to handle it. You’re so cute when you’re bashful.”

“ _Leaving_ now,” he grouched, starting to get up.

Bulma tightened her grip and pulled him back in, pressing her brow to his. “What did I just tell you about leaving me?”

He huffed, still annoyed with her. “Don’t remember. You say a lot of dumb things I mostly ignore.”

“Like how I love you?”

“…”

“And that I’m glad you’re alive?”

“Tch.”

She smirked and grabbed his hand. He looked down at her as she undid the blue leather band from her wrist and wrapped it back about his. “There. Now it’s back where it belongs.” She closed the clasp with a satisfying little click. “Mine,” she said softly. Resolute.

She looked up at him, and he was staring at her, his black eyes searching hers. She felt her heart flutter.

“Bulma-”

“If you say you’re sorry again, I swear I will smack you.”

“I love you.”

“Oh… Okay then. That’s acceptable.”

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make m-fph~!” <3

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

With the help of Dr. Briefs and their army of Capsule Corp lawyers, Bulma was able to get dozens of copies of the security footage to the authorities. The fallout was incredible. The Colds were arrested, as were the Ginyu crew and a slew of other gang members, all on various counts of murder, torture, underground gambling, blackmailing, and a string of other crimes that would see the Colds locked up for the rest of their lives and then some. There was no shortage of witnesses; with the Icejin leaders put away for good, the loyalty of the gang fell the wayside, everyone now willing to cut a deal and testify in a desperate bid for self preservation. The Icejin were all the news could talk about for weeks. Everyone suddenly knew somebody who worked with or had connections with the Icejin.

After the tournament, the doctors had allowed Vegeta to leave the hospital if he promised to rest. With no tournament to train for or vengeance to carry out, Bulma made sure that Vegeta would keep that promise, and still repentant for having broken his promise to her, Vegeta actually obliged.

They were taking it easy at home when the doorbell rang. Bulma left to answer the door, returning a few minutes later, clearing her throat in the doorway to Vegeta’s room.

“Vegeta, are you busy? You have a guest.”

Vegeta looked up from his playstation. The controller fell from his fingers, his eyes going wide. He stood up stiffly. “Sir?”

“Vegeta,” Mr. Saiyan greeted, stepping into his son’s room. He glanced around, taking in the neat room, before looking back at Vegeta. “I see you’ve made yourself at home here. Are you well?” he asked, despite the fact that Vegeta was still bruised and bandaged.

Vegeta nodded. His eyes darted to Bulma, then back to his father. Mr. Saiyan noticed and he glanced at Bulma. He smiled warmly at her.

“Ah, yes, Miss Briefs. I know I have you and your father to thank for taking care of my son these past few months.”

Bulma was about to reply but suddenly the air was squeezed out of her as the towering man swept her up in a large hug. 

“Uh… it was n-nothing, really,” she wheezed helplessly. 

Mr. Saiyan held her to the point of awkwardness, then cleared his throat and pulled back, but he didn’t disengage entirely. He took her hand in his. “Nonsense. You saved my son, no, you saved our family. You did what I never could. I…” his voice trailed off and he looked down, suddenly ashamed at his outburst. He squeezed her hand, then looked at it, frowning.

Bulma stiffened when she realized what he’d noticed - the ring. Vegeta’s mother’s ring - Mr. Saiyan’s _deceased wife’s ring_ , that she now wore so casually on her finger. Her eyes went wide and she glanced at Vegeta, panicked. She didn’t know how Mr. Saiyan would react to her having such a personal memento, especially one he’d tried to get rid of.

Vegeta also noticed, and though his expression didn’t change, he walked over to stand by her side. 

“Vegeta,” Mr. Saiyan said, his voice quiet. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yessir,” Vegeta replied. 

“I thought I…”

“You did. But I got it back.”

Mr. Saiyan didn’t reply. After a moment he bowed his head, putting a hand over his face. Bulma glanced at Vegeta anxiously, her hand still being held prisoner.

Vegeta sighed. “Dad,” he chastised gently. He reached out and pried her hand from his father’s grip. Mr. Saiyan let her go, but replaced her with his son, touching Vegeta’s bruised face, looking at his son in anguish. “Vegeta, I’m sorry…” 

He suddenly wrapped Vegeta up in a hug, crushing him to his chest. And started crying.

“Forgive me, son. I failed you. I failed to protect you, I failed you in every way. You deserved a better father than I ever was. You’ve always been a better man than me, even as a boy. Forgive me…”

Mr. Saiyan continued to cling to his son, weeping, while Vegeta stood woodenly in his arms. Then, tentatively, Vegeta raised his hands and hugged his father back. His hands fisted in his father’s top and he lowered his face, clinging to Mr. Saiyan.

Bulma ducked out of the room, allowing father and son some privacy. 

A while later, Vegeta came and found her, looking abashed, his eyes suspiciously red. “Yeah, uh… my old man wants to speak to you before he leaves.”

Bulma went to say goodbye. Mr. Saiyan was already at the front door. He reached out to shake her hand again. “You are very special, Miss Briefs… May I call you Bulma?”

She nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

“Not ‘sir’,” Mr. Saiyan corrected. “Please, call me ‘dad’.”

She felt her face go red. “I-I, uh,” she stammered.

Mr. Saiyan smiled and winked at her. “Vegeta wouldn’t give this ring to just any girl,” he said conspiringly, tapping the ring on her hand. “Well then… once this court case business with the Colds is over, I’ll be sure to make up lost time with the both of you. I want to get to know the girl that both stole and saved my son. Take care of him for me until then.” He squeezed her hand.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she replied, but when he gave her a reprimanding look, Bulma blushed and corrected herself. “Uh, Dad…”

Mr. Saiyan beamed happily. He petted her on the head and then left. After closing the door, Bulma turned and saw Vegeta was watching her, waiting for her at the top of the stairs. 

“I think he approves,” she joked weakly, still embarrassed.

Vegeta crossed his arms, huffing. “He’d be crazy not to.”

They didn’t see Vegeta’s father for a long while after that. He was one of the key witnesses in the Colds trials, and had to be taken into protective custody; Mr. Saiyan had a lot of damning evidence that he’d been secretly collecting over the years which would help bring down not only Frieza and his father, but the entire Icejin gang. Between the security footage Bulma had retrieved, Mr. Saiyan’s testimony, and various other Icejin and victims stepping forward, the Colds were never going to see the light of day again. But to play it safe, Dr. Briefs hired  protection for his family until the Colds’ case was settled, something Vegeta found to be incredibly amusing, boasting that it was unnecessary because he was the best protection the Briefs had.

The next few weeks flew by, busy with school and the police and keeping Vegeta entertained enough so that he wouldn’t resort to over training. They spent a lot of free time at home, hanging out, gaming, studying, sometimes entertaining Goku or the others when they visited. Vegeta couldn’t be kept from the gym for long, especially when Bulma was busy experimenting in the lab with her father, and oddly enough it was Vegeta who’d have to come and demand she take a break, rather than the other way around, or send her an agitated text.

_You’re in the lab again, aren’t you?_

_Err… no? [Angel face]_

_Are you coming out soon? I need your assistance._

_I’ll be done in a minute,Vegeta. Can you wait? [winky face] [timer] [heart]_

_Woman, your minute is more like an hour. Fine, I guess I’ll just try taking these bandages off by myself. Naked._

_NOOO I’M COMING, WAIT!!!!_

And that’s how the days and weeks passed, and Bulma couldn’t have been happier.

“Go grab a game, I’m bored of this,” Vegeta complained, turning off the TV they had been attempting to watch one evening. 

“Yeah yeah,” she said as she got up from the couch and went to explore his collection of games. Not sure what to choose, she grabbed a handful of boxes and brought them back to the couch, dumping them on the cushions so Vegeta could choose. 

“Tch, careful, some of these are collector’s editions,” he grouched.

She just stuck her tongue out at him. As Vegeta sorted through the boxes, a familiar one caught her eye - the girl with the blue hair on the cover that she knew had a strand of her hair inside. Smirking, Bulma picked up the box and wagged it in front of Vegeta.

“What about this one? Look, it’s a game about me.”

Vegeta glanced at the box, and a second later his eyes bugged out. “NOT THAT ONE, GIVE IT HERE!” he hollered, and tried to snatch it from her hand. 

She held it out of his reach. “What? Why not? It looks cute. I want to try it.”

Vegeta lunged for the game. “Cut it out, Bulma, we’re not playing that one!”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, damnit!”

“Boy, that’s odd, it’s really light,” she teased, shaking the box. “I don’t think there’s even anything inside.”

“Exactly, so hand it over!” Vegeta huffed, still trying to snatch it from her.

 “No.”

“God _damnit, Bulma_!” Vegeta growled, and he knocked her back on the couch, climbing up her to snatch the box from her hand. Having his prize, he looked down at her, Bulma pinned beneath him. She beamed up at him, amused at how flustered he was.

“Satisfied?” she teased.

He sneered. “Why are you SUCH A BRAT?! Can’t you respect anything of mine?”

She scoffed. “That’s rich, considering it’s _my_ hair you’re secreting away.”

Vegeta blanched, recoiling. “How did yo… Have you been _snooping through my stuff_?!”

Bulma snorted. “Hardly. I found it when I was trying to bring you some games to the hospital, dumbass.”

“Tch……”

“Don’t ‘tch’ me,” she insisted, pressing a finger to his chest. “Tell me, what are you doing keeping body parts in your room.”

“It’s not… I haven’t… It’s none of your damn business,” he finally snapped, flustered. He tried to pull away but Bulma grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down.

“My hair. My business.”

“ _Ugh!_ ” He snapped irritably. “Yes, fine, it’s _your_ goddamn hair. I kept it to confirm your hair color, alright?”

Bulma arched a skeptical brow. “You’ve kept it _all this time_ to see if I was naturally blue?”

Vegeta’s gaze slipped away, and he mumbled something.

“What was that?”

He sighed through clenched teeth, giving her a petulant look. “I _said_ , it was the _first_ _gift_ I’d ever received from someone…” he trailed off, blushing hotly.

Bulma felt her heart clench even as she was tempted to laugh at how miserable he looked. She put her hands on his face and squished his cheeks together. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“I hate you,” he growled from his smooshed face, trying to scowl at her.

“I love you too,” she replied, and then gasped a moment later when his fingers dug into her sides. She howled with laughter, squirming and squealing as he attacked her, tickling her mercilessly on the couch. 

“Stop, please, uncle, uncle!” Bulma begged. 

“Say it,” he growled, his fingers vicious in her sides. “Say you’ll do anything.”

“Y-you p-pervert!” she protested, struggling to fight off his hands as she laughed.

He grinned down at her ruthlessly. “Say it,” he insisted. “I won’t stop until you do.”

“I’ll d-do anything!” she gasped through her laughter, giving in far too easily. “Please, I’ll do anything for you, Vegeta!”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her. 

* * *

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

  **AN:** :) 

Do you forgive me yet? 

One more to go….~

 

.... All pieces of art by **[Rutbisbe](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com/post/150853860676/more-vegebul-fanart-this-time-is-from)**

 

 

 

 

 


	30. 30 - Halloween (Epilogue) (w/ FANARTs)

**LEMONY FANSERVICE WARNING AHEAD.**

 

 **Friends** \- an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by _LadyVegeets_

**Ch.30 - Epilogue - Halloween**

 

 

The air was crisp with the late fall weather, the smell of soggy leaves, apples and pumpkin spice prominent in the air. Jack-o-lanterns, ghosts and witches decorated the houses in the neighborhood. And inside the Brief’s house, Bulma was impatiently banging on the bathroom door.

“Oh my god, Vegeta, how long does it take? We’re going to be late!” she demanded.

“Would you quit your bitching already?” He shouted back through the door. “I’m almost done!”

She rolled her eyes and stomped back to check herself out in her full length mirror. She was wearing an astronaut suit, not just a costume, but an actual complete reproduction. She hoped she wouldn’t be too hot in it, as it was surprisingly mild for late Fall. 

Bulma heard the bathroom door open and close, and turned to await Vegeta’s entrance. “It’s about time. Honestly, you took longer than meeeee _ohmygod_ ,” she said, her mouth dropping open as Vegeta stepped into the room.

He was wearing the perfect replica of Nathan Drake from the Uncharted games; cargo pants, an ivory colored cotton shirt only half tucked in, and a dusty blue scarf. There was also a leather aviator watch on his wrist, and a large buckled belt around his waist. His outfit could have passed for normal attire except he also wore leather shoulder holsters, a strap of fake ammunition across his chest, and in his hand was a fake AK-47. Vegeta had even applied some fake blood and dirt to his clothes, face and forearms to make it look as though he’d been roughed from ‘treasure hunting’. And he looked _amazing_. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Vegeta asked at her reaction, looking down at himself.

“Everything,” Bulma said, eyeing him over unabashedly. “It’s absolutely _criminal_ that you look that good.”

“Tch,” he replied, flashing her an irritated look even as a slight pink stain formed on his cheeks. He eyed her over, arching a brow at her space suit. “Astronaut?”

Bulma nodded, smiling. “Yes! A perfect imitation too, might I add. I researched it in detail. It was one of my dream jobs growing up,” she said proudly, putting her gloved fists on her hips, posing in a heroic stance.

Vegeta cocked his head, looking her over. “… It’s not slutty.”

Bulma nearly choked in surprise. “Wh-what?”

“It’s not slutty,” Vegeta repeated calmly, slinging his ‘gun’ over his shoulder. “Don’t girls wear skimpy, revealing outfits for Halloween?”

Bulma’s hands fell to her sides, feeling a flutter of disappointment. “Do… you _want_ me to wear something slutty?” she asked uncertainly.

Vegeta’s eyes darkened, and he advanced towards her. She backed up until she couldn’t go any further, pressed against the mirror. He put a hand on the wall, trapping her, looming in close. “Do you _have_ something like that?” he asked, his voice getting low.

Bulma swallowed nervously. His eyes were boring into hers, pinning her to the spot, and she could smell him as he leaned in, smelling clean and musky, and he smirked at her ever so slightly. “M-maybe,” she stammered.

His eyes narrowed. “Save it for tonight, then,” he said, letting his eyes wander over her suit. “Besides, I like this. It’s very you,” he added, tugging on her high neckline.

Bulma felt herself go red. “Is that a compliment?”

His lips quirked up. “It is. You don’t dress like everyone else. You have the weirdest fashion sense, but you’re always true to yourself. I respect that a lot.”

Bulma didn’t think she could blush any harder. She laughed self consciously, butterflies in her stomach. She thought of all the times people hadn’t taken her seriously because of her wardrobe, all the girls at school who talked about her behind her back, criticizing her style, or her mother’s debutante friends clucking their tongues at her lack of a designer wardrobe. To hell with them, Bulma had always told herself, but their prejudice had still stung. But Vegeta always appreciated her for who she was, not what she was expected to be. “Thanks…”

He kissed her chastely and then stepped back. “C’mon. We’ll be late, remember?”

She nodded, and they headed out. When the car dropped them off, Vegeta took one look at the throngs of people before grabbing Bulma’s hand. She threw him a smile, adoring his concern. He blushed, scowling, and looked away. “Don’t get separated,” he grouched. He led them through the crowd, trying to find their friends.

Goku was easy to spot, his height and hair making him an easy target. Goku was dressed in an ape costume, although the head piece was currently off, tucked under his arm. Chi-Chi was next to him, dressed as Chun Li from Street Fighter. “Hey guys!” Goku hollered.

Bulma waved. “Looking good,” she greeted as they approached.

“You too,” Goku replied. “At least your outfits are complete.

Chi-Chi made an aggravated sound. “Damnit, Goku, your costume IS complete too.”

“But there’s no _tail_ ,” he whined.

“We’ve been over this nine thousand times already. Ape’s don’t have tails!” she replied, exasperated.

Goku’s shoulders sagged. “I still think it should have a tail.”

Vegeta grunted, eying Goku’s costume, almost sounding as though he agreed.

“Ugh. Let’s go before the line gets too long,” Chi-Chi suggested, and she led Goku way, Bulma and Vegeta following behind.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vegeta grouched as they waited in line to enter the haunted house. “This is so stupid. Why are we here again?”

“Because you promised me,” Bulma reminded him.

Vegeta scowled. “That wasn’t fair, you blackmailed that promise from me.”

Bulma shrugged, smirking, remembering the incident with sly amusement. They’d been engaged in uh, ‘ _bedroom_ activities’ when she’d mentioned the haunted house. She’d asked him to go with her while her mouth had been occupying him rather _effectively_ if she did say so herself. Desperate for her not to stop, Vegeta had promised to go.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” she chided smugly.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear. “Watch yourself, Briefs. Payback is going to be a _bitch_.”

Bulma shivered, looking forward to his wicked promise. Suddenly she was a whole lot less keen on going to the haunted house, and she began to wonder if they could just skip out and return home…

“We’re next!” Chi-Chi exclaimed with excitement as they moved up in the line.

 _Well, maybe not_.

The four of them were soon admitted into the haunted house. It was dark, screams and other creepy noises playing from overhead speakers, sharp shrieks punctuating long silences, each one making Bulma jump. She grabbed onto Vegeta’s arm, clinging closely to his side.

After walking through a couple of rooms filled with creepy mannequins and dioramas, they came to a fork in the path.

“Going left!” Goku announced and tugged Chi-Chi after him. Vegeta snorted and dragged Bulma to the right.

“Hey, shouldn’t we stick tog-” she started to protest.

“No,” Vegeta cut her off, and they entered the door on the right, separated from Goku and Chi-Chi. It only made Bulma more nervous, and she pressed herself up against Vegeta’s back.

Someone suddenly jumped out, lunging at them. Bulma screamed. Vegeta didn’t even flinch but he did tug her out of ‘harms’ way. The costumed worker snarled at them and moved on. Vegeta snorted, not impressed by the attempt to scare them. He continued through the house as Bulma tried not to hyperventilate, following at his heels, muffling her screams against his shoulder every time something spooked her.

“Why are you even scared?” he asked suddenly, sounding annoyed.

She clung to him pathetically. “Because it’s dark and scary and I _know_ they’re going to jump out but I don’t know _when_!” she protested.

“It’s ridiculous,” he grouched.

Bulma glanced at him. “Why?”

“Because _I’m_ here,” he said, looking away.

Bulma’s eyes widened, her feet slowing. Was Vegeta actually upset that she didn’t trust him to protect her? Bulma felt her chest tighten, and she smiled at him in the dark. “Vegeta…”

He huffed, embarrassed. “I’m leaving you behind now,” he grumbled and started to walk off.

Bulma shrieked and ran after him, clutching at his back. “OH MY GOD VEGETA DON’T LEAVE ME, PLEASE!”

She heard him chuckle and would have hit him but didn’t want to risk him leaving her to fend for herself. After a few more rooms, Vegeta’s hand suddenly shot out and stopped her from progressing any further. 

She tensed, nervous. “Wh-what is it?”

“… We can’t go this way,” he said, and he grabbed her elbow and started leading her back the way they’d come.

“But,” she protested as he pulled her along. “Vegeta, the signs are pointing that way,” she said, pointing at a big green glowing arrow.

“They’re wrong,” he said flatly.

Bulma tugged her arm out from his grip. “Don’t be silly. I’m _not_ going all the way back through this house. You must have made a mistake. C’mon.”

“Bulma-” he protested, but she wouldn’t listen. Steeling herself, Bulma walked forward, following the green arrows. He called to her again. “Bulma, please!”

She headed into the room he’d been reluctant to enter. It was set up like a graveyard, with tombstones and fake trees. One of the tombs had a giant, heaving pile of live worms, wriggling and writhing, with a fake zombie hand thrust up from the center. Bulma looked around, but she couldn’t see what the problem was. There was a clear path through the tombstones and she could even see the exit on the far side. “Vegeta, this is the right way,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

Vegeta lingered by the doorway, looking pale and tense. He didn’t move to enter.

“Vegeta?”

“Bulma, let’s go back,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse.

“But.. the exit is just there,” she said, pointing.

He glanced at the door, then at the swarming pile of worms, then quickly looked away, swallowing sickly. His hands fisted, and he shook his head, refusing.

Bulma’s eyes widened. This was… a first. She approached him and reached out, touching his wrist. “It won’t take 30 seconds to walk through this room…” she trailed off, seeing how poorly he was doing.

He was sweating. She could see it beaded on his brow, dripping down the side of his face. He looked down, away from her, ashamed. “… I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, trying to keep her voice gentle, not wanting to sound judgmental.

She watched his throat bob, and he let out a nervous, agitated sigh. “… Ginyu and his friends… buried me alive once.”

Bulma’s eyebrows shot up, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth in horror. “… _What_?”

Vegeta scowled, but he looked more anxious than angry. “When I was a kid, I don’t remember how old. Five, maybe. They dropped me in a compost bin and put bricks over the lid so I couldn’t get out. And there were… worms,” he admitted, his face ashen. “Everywhere. On my skin, in my clothes, in my hair, and I couldn’t get out. I screamed for hours but…”  his voice trailed off, unwilling to continue.

Bulma was horrified; she couldn’t imagine what a tiny, five year old Vegeta must have gone through, left alone to suffer in such a place. She hugged him. Vegeta was stiff in her embrace but she didn’t let go, hugging him for all the times no one else had. Finally, Vegeta brought his hands up and hugged her back.

“That’s so awful, Vegeta, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“…”

“We can go back,” she offered. Her fear was nothing compared to Vegeta’s childhood trauma.

“… No,” he said, surprising her. He let her go, and she reluctantly did the same. His jaw was set stubbornly. “The exit is right there.”

He was trying to be brave. For her. For himself.

The idiot.

“Okay,” she said, wanting to support him. She pulled off her glove to take his hand in her own. “But we can go back at any time if you need to, alright? I’m right here.”

“I’m not scared,” Vegeta snapped petulantly. “It’s just a bad memory.”

“I know,” she agreed, not about to call him out and shatter his pride.

She led the way, putting herself between him and the worms, and he followed her stiffly. His hand squeezed hers tightly, too tightly, his palm moist, and she felt her heart break when she noticed his hand was trembling. This wasn’t just a bad memory for him. He was _terrified_.

They finally made it to the exit and Vegeta barged through the door, letting her go to gulp in the cool fresh air after suffering the stuffy house. He put his hands on his knees, bending over, catching his breath and trying to gather his nerves.

Goku and Chi-Chi were waiting for them.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” Goku declared, looking excited. 

Vegeta glared up at Goku with death in his eyes.

Goku took a step back. “Oh, jeez, Vegeta. Did you run through the house? You look wrecked, buddy.”

“ _Fuck_ you, carrot-head.”

“Yikes! So… I guess you don’t want to go again?”

“Hell no,” both Vegeta and Bulma said in unison. 

Chi-Chi snickered at their unified answer. “You guys are going to start finishing each other’s sentences next.”

“He’d have to speak a full sentence for me to finish it,” Bulma replied, hoping to bait Vegeta out of his mood.

He scolwed at her. “And _you’d_ have to stick to just _one_ in order to let anyone else get a word in,” he countered. 

Bulma smiled, glad to see the spark of fire in Vegeta’s eyes. 

“WHOSE HUNGRY!?” Goku interrupted. “Hey, Vegeta, let’s go get some food. We’ll be right back, girls!” Before Vegeta could refuse, Goku grabbed him. Vegeta grouched, swearing and protesting but let Goku pull him away towards the food carts.

Bulma and Chi-Chi smiled and went to find a place to wait for them, sitting on a small garden ledge where they could watch the crowds of costumed trick-or-treaters.  Bulma put her glove back on.

“Vegeta looks like he’s recovered from the tournament,” Chi-Chi commented.

Bulma nodded. “Goku too.”

Chi-Chi made a face. “Yes, well, Goku wouldn’t have been so badly injured if he hadn’t let that stupid Ginyu jerk throw him off. Did you know Ginyu asked Goku to join the Icejin? He said there’d be an opening shortly after Vegeta was ‘dealt with’. Goku said it stunned him so much he couldn’t respond to Ginyu’s attack in time.”

Before Bulma could reply they were interrupted. “BULMA, CHI-CHI!” A familiar voice cried out.

Bulma looked up in time to see a great big werewolf come barreling towards her. “… _Raditz?_ ” she asked, seeing a familiar mane of long black hair that fit so perfectly in with his costume she almost didn’t recognize the older boy.

Raditz gave her a very appropriate wolfish grin. “In the _flesh_ ,” he said, lowering his voice to take on a growling baritone, holding up his paws dramatically.

“Wow, you look incredible,” Bulma complimented. He’d clearly put a lot of effort into his costume, not to mention he had the physique to match the creature.

Raditz preened at the compliment. “You ladies too,” he said. He gave Bulma a once-over. “What, no bunny costume?”

Bulma’s mouth parted, startled. “How… How do you know about that?” she asked, and then swung her attention onto Chi-Chi, who refused to make eye contact with her. 

Raditz winced. “Oops.”

Chi-Chi glared at him reproachfully. “You and your big mouth.”

“ _His_ big mouth?” Bulma cried out at Chi-Chi, her tone rising. “Chi-Chi, you promised to keep that a secret! I only wore that the _one time_ because Yamcha wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“So…. You’re saying I brought my camera for nothing?” Raditz pouted.

“Take a hike, Raditz,” Chi-Chi snapped at him irritably.

“Take a _bite_ , you say?” he grinned.

“No, ugh, you’re incorrigible,” Chi-Chi huffed. “We’re both spoken for, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Raditz shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t see a ring on it…”

Bulma smirked. She did have a ring, although her spacesuit gloves were obscuring her hands. 

Raditz pulled out his phone. “C’mon ladies, let’s take a selfie before your fellas come back and ruin the illusion that I have you two to myself.”

Chi-Chi grumbled under her breath but both girls got up and obliging took a photo with him. Bulma felt Raditz’s arm snake around her middle as he held up his phone, grinning devilishly with his large, fake incisors and snapped a photo of the three of them.

“Gorgeous,” Raditz said, letting his arm with the camera drop, but not the one around Bulma’s waist. “And you ladies look fine too, I guess.” Bulma rolled her eyes and elbowed him. He took it while still clinging onto her. “Ouch. Feisty. You should be careful about angering a werewolf. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

“We _don’t_ like you, _period_ ,” Chi-Chi shot back, still mad at him.

Raditz put a hand over his chest. “Oh, you wound me, young Lucy Liu.”

“It’s Chun Li, moron,” Chi-Chi replied, stomping her foot angrily.

Raditz shrugged and tugged Bulma in tighter against his side. “Okay, whatever you say. SO! Who wants to go into the haunted house with me and help scare the workers? I made someone cry last year. I want to at least double that. Chi-Chi, you’re good at emasculating men, want in?”

“I’d rather rip my fingernails off.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a strong _no_. Bulma?” Raditz asked, looking at her hopefully.

Bulma was about to politely refuse when she felt Raditz retract his arm, taking a step away from her and running his hand through his hair with a guilty grin. She looked over to what had caught his attention, seeing Goku and Vegeta returning with several fast food bags in hand. Vegeta was scowling at Raditz in a very unfriendly way.

“Raditz! Wow, great costume!” Goku greeted his cousin cheerily. 

Chi-Chi glared at all the food Goku had. “How much food did you buy? See, this is why you’re always broke! Ugh, you’re so useless with money. Do I have to do everything for you?”

Goku laughed awkwardly. They hadn’t told Chi-Chi all the specifics of the tournament, most importantly that Bulma had let Goku keep the money he’d won (after returning the initial betted amount); Goku, Vegeta and Bulma had promised not to say anything about the winnings to anyone, even to Chi-Chi, at least not until the Icejin trial had come to a close.

While Chi-Chi chided Goku, Vegeta continued to glare at Raditz. He shoved his bags of food at Bulma and tugged her away from Raditz. 

“Hey,” she protested, almost dropping a bag as he manhandled her.

He didn’t reply but his expression stormy. Vegeta pulled her over to sit down on the nearby ledge. He pulled out his phone and furiously started texting.

A moment later, she felt her phone buzz. 

 _Why did he have his arm on you?_ his message read. She glanced at him, arching a brow. Was he really texting her right now? She didn’t know if she should laugh or be offended. Vegeta refused to look at her, and she guessed he didn’t want to draw attention to them by arguing with her in public. Or maybe he was too upset to face her.

She put the food down and texted him back. _Are you talking about Raditz?_ [Dog emoji]

_YES, Raditz. Why, was there someone ELSE touching you?_

Bulma sighed. _Are you_ still _jealous of him?_ [sad face]

_I wouldn’t HAVE to be if you didn’t let him paw you._

Bulma snorted. _Vegeta, I’m wearing a spacesuit, I can barely feel a thing in this._

_That’s not the point, Bulma!_

She saw him start to type something else, but he changed his mind and turned his screen off, pocketing his phone with an agitated huff. He looked away, embarrassed. “Just…eat your damn food before it gets cold,” he grouched at her.

Bulma glanced at the food, then back at him, his face still pulled into a petulant scowl. He was in a bad mood, probably in part to what had happened in the haunted house. But to his credit, he was also trying to let the matter go. Bulma smiled and leaned over, touching his arm and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to be jealous. Trust me. There’s only you.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. Finally she felt him relax, and he huffed softly. “I…” he started to say then stopped, frowning, glancing at the others who were talking and eating nearby, and though they were trying to give them some privacy, Vegeta still didn’t feel comfortable being so open around them. “…I’m hungry. Open up the food already.”

Bulma did just that even know that’s not what he had been going to say. They ate together, she and Vegeta sharing their meal in silence while they listened to their friends joke around. When she was done, Bulma rested her head against Vegeta’s shoulder.

“So is that Indiana Jones?” Raditz suddenly asked Vegeta, bravely attempting to engage him conversation.

Vegeta’s lip curled in disgust.

“Uh, no, he’s Nathan Drake,” Bulma corrected.

Raditz looked surprised. “Oh yeah, from Uncharted? Isn’t he a good guy? I’m surprised the hero type would appeal to you, Vegeta,” he commented smugly.

Vegeta bristled with indignation. Bulma hurried to interject. “Drake _is_ a hero, but he’s not your typical good guy. Drake is a smart-mouthed, independent, clever, strong, and athletic. He came from a broken background and participates in illegal activities. He kicks a lot of butt. And he is tamed by a beautiful, smart, resourceful woman… Sound familiar?” She asked, smiling cutely.

The other’s laughed at her assessment, but a glance at Vegeta told her he didn’t much appreciate her comparison, his eyes promising retribution when they were alone. The group started talking about their own characters when Bulma felt her phone buzz again.

 _Let’s go_ , Vegeta’s message read.

Bulma typed back a response. _That’s not really getting into the Halloween spirit._ [Sad face] [jack-o-lantern] 

 _I’m spiriting you away. That’s spirit enough_.

 _Oh, har har._ [Pained face]

 _I’ll… scare the pants off you_?

 _Pft. You’re jokes are terrible. Besides, I’m not wearing any._ [Smiley face] [winky face]

… _Wait, no pants? Really?_

 _Really. Do you know how damn hot this spacesuit is_? 

Vegeta slipped his phone into his pocket. “We’re going home,” he announced loudly, taking Bulma’s hand and pulling her up. “Bulma’s not feeling well.”

“I-” she started to protest, but Vegeta pulled her after him before she could argue, and she hastily waved goodbye to her friends over her shoulder, not really putting up that much of a fight.

Vegeta led her to the street and hailed down a cab. They got in the back seat together and Vegeta gave the address for home. They sat in silence as they were driven.

“…Is this about Raditz?” she asked after a while, wondering if he was still upset.

“This is about you not wearing any pants,” he replied softly, so at not to be heard over the music playing on the cab’s radio.

Bulma smiled. “Okay. Good.”

Vegeta didn’t say anything else, but his hand came to rest on her leg, and all Bulma could think about for the rest of the ride home was his fingers teasingly kneading her inner thigh.

 As soon as they entered the house, Vegeta trapped her against the front door. Bulma felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. Vegeta’s eyes raked over her. “How do you get this damn thing off,” he asked, his voice already low.

Bulma smiled coyly at him. “With great difficulty. Also, I uh, should shower. I’m really sweaty.”

Vegeta scowled, not happy at the thought of being kept waiting, denied the opportunity to peel her out of the the suit off. “That’s not what I had in mind.”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “Patience,” she drawled. “I’ll make it quick. Why not answer some trick-or-treaters while you wait?”

“Tch. As if,” he snarked, stepping back and crossing his arms, giving her a petulant look.

Bulma shook her head and headed to the bathroom to clean up, feeling his scowling gaze on her the whole way up the stairs.

She tried not to take too long in the shower, washing herself quickly. Just as she was getting out, the power and lights suddenly went out. The room went dark. Bulma paused, waiting for the back-up generator to kick in. 

.

..

… It didn’t.

A little worried, Bulma reached blindly for her towel and wrapped it around herself. She then stumbled out of the bathroom but opening the door provided no relief, the entire house pitch black. She was totally blind, and dressed in only a bath towel. 

“Vegeta?” she called hesitantly. 

“I’ve got it!” he called back from further in the house, already on his way to the fuse box. “Go wait in our room.”

She ran her hand along the wall to find her way towards Vegeta’s room. She smiled that he called it ‘their’ room; it _had_ become that way. Ever since Zarbon had attacked her she’d been spending most of her nights with Vegeta, and he’d never complained about her invading his space. She finally found the door and let herself into the room, stumbling her way over to the couch in the dark.

After a few minutes the lights still hadn’t come on. She began to wonder if Vegeta even knew how to handle the fuses, especially if there was a problem with the generator itself. She stood up, thinking she should try to aid him when she heard the bedroom door open and close.

“Vegeta?”

Nothing.

Bulma clutched her towel at her chest, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and afraid. _Don’t be stupid, your imagination is your own worse nightmare_ , she tried to convince herself. “Vegeta, is that you?” she asked again uncertainly.

There was still no reply. She was sure she heard something move in the room.

Panic. Her imagination took over. Oh god, what if it was an intruder? What if Frieza had sent someone after her, even from prison? What if someone had cut the power and slipped past Vegeta, or already taken care of him, and now and they’d come to take care of her too? Bulma’s breathing got fast, shallow, and she backed up, trying to think if there was anything in the room she could use as a weapon, or if she’d be able to sneak out and run away without being caught. Just as she was considering her possibilities, she felt something breathe against the back of her neck.

“Boo!”

Bulma screamed. She jumped and would have spun away except Vegeta grabbed her and held her tightly from behind, laughing softly at her reaction. 

“YOU _ASSHOLE_!” Bulma wailed, her heart about to explode. “VEGETA, DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN, YOU REALLY SCARED ME!”

He hugged her tighter as if in apology, but she could hear the smirk in his voice when he replied. “You’re the one who wanted me to get into the Halloween spirit.”

Bulma tried to calm her breathing. “I c-can’t believe you! You jerk! Did you cut the power just to play a prank on me?”

“Mmm,” he replied, nuzzling the back of her neck.

Bulma felt relief wash through her that they weren’t being attacked, even as she felt angry at his stupid joke. “You’re such a jerk. An evil jerk.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he chuckled. Then he lightly bit her shoulder. The gesture shocked her into realizing she was still only wearing a towel, and he was holding her possessively, pressed up against her in the dark. Bulma swallowed, and not out of fear, her heartbeat quickening for entirely new reasons.

“We should turn the power back on,” she suggested weakly.

“You seem to enjoy turning things on,” he replied, nipping her bare shoulder, trailing kisses up her neck. His hands ran teasingly down her sides, along her towel, until his fingers skimmed her naked thighs. “And you’re getting a bad habit of going about without pants on, Earth Woman,” he growled, his deep tone awakening something in her lower belly.

Bulma suppressed a shiver and pressed herself back against him, feeling his warmth radiate through his clothing, enjoying being sheltered by his strong presence in the dark. “Earth Woman?” she asked, amused.

Vegeta trailed his fingers under her towel, pulling it up in order to feel her thighs, ghosting his fingertips along the soft swell of her bottom. He hummed. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Your space suit gave you away,” he whispered playfully against her ear.

“Oh?” she stammered, feeling her skin prickle and bump at his touch, her heart rate picking up at his words. Was he _role playing_ with her. “So you’re not from Earth?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice purring against the pulse in her throat. “I’m an alien.”

She smiled. “An alien Prince?”

“Sure,” he agreed against her neck, tasting her, his tongue laving her neck.

Bulma could barely contained a whimper. “A-and what do you want with me?”

“You’re not allowed to move,” he replied. 

“And if I do?”

“I stop.”

Bulma felt his hands on her chest where her towel was knotted, and he slowly pulled it open. He let the fabric slip over her, the cotton dragging against her nipples until the towel pooled at her feet. She shivered, naked against him.

“It’s cold,” she protested.

“Is it?” he asked and his thumbs brushed over her pert nipples cruelly. Bulma let out a muffled sound, arching against him, her senses heightened by her lack of vision. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel _everything_. She could feel his heat behind her and his hands in front of her, plucking at her nipples. 

He leaned against her, and the hard line of his cock pressed against her ass. His desire for her only fanned her own lust. “Vegeta…” His name slipped from her lips, as much a plea as it was to tease him, knowing his weakness for hearing it. If he wasn’t going to play fairly, then neither was she.

His fingers tightened over her nipples and he sucked the smooth line of her neck, no doubt leaving a mark. His hands moved down along her ribs, over the soft swell of her belly, until he reached the apex of her thighs. Bulma gasped as he spread her lips open, baring her to the cool night, feeling the air kiss her wet core. She bit her lip, flushing with embarrassment and lust… Vegeta always awoke a dark, shameless part within her.

With his other hand he slipped a finger against her, rubbing over her clit and down to her center. Bulma shivered, moaning encouragingly, starting to rock her hips against his hand.

“I told you not to move,” he growled.

She whimpered, struggling to still her hips but they bucked of their own accord when his finger teased her over and over with cruel, wet strokes. “I c-can’t help it,” she sobbed. 

He chuckled. “Lewd Earth girl,” he teased. 

“ _I-I’m_ lewd?” she gasped.

“Mm-hmm,” he insisted. “Because very soon you’re going to be _begging_ me for more.”

Bulma felt her mouth go dry. Her whole body was taut, like he was pulling a string at her center and she was helpless to dance to his whim. Her pride wanted her to resist, to take up his challenge, but all that was quickly overshadowed by the need to just _give in_ _already_.

And then his thick finger _slipped inside her_ and all reasoning went out the window. She had to grab onto his neck behind her for support, and he was good enough to allow it. He fucked her slowly, getting her wetter and loosening her up for what was to come. Her knees were trembling, ready to give out any moment, and she couldn’t contain the helpless pants and whimpers that fell from her mouth. 

It didn’t take long for Vegeta’s prediction to come true.

“H-oh please, Vegeta, please,” she started to beg.

“Please what?”

 _Bastard_. He was going to make her say it, knowing it embarrassed her. Knowing it turned her on. 

“Please,” she sobbed. “Take me…”

He slipped another finger inside her. She keened, riding his hand.

“Take you how?” he purred.

Bulma struggled to think. They’d been so gentle and tender lately, a side effect of nearly losing each other, a means to affirm their love because Vegeta felt more comfortable expressing himself through actions than he did through words, and every single time had been _wonderful_. But Bulma ached for something different now, she didn’t want to feel his tender adoration.

She wanted to be desired. Needed. _Lusted_ over. 

And it was the season to be _wicked_.

She turned her head, gasping against his cheek as he fucked her with his fingers. “Don’t,” she said.

He stilled his hand at her word. “Don’t what?” he asked, hesitant.

Bulma smiled against his jaw. “Don’t be gentle, Vegeta.”

His breath shuddered out and he bit back a groan. Then he picked her up about the middle and threw her over the side of the couch, ass up. She cried out, the fabric of the couch grazing her body sensually. Her ass spread open indecently over the arm rest. He followed her down, one powerful arm placed for support by her face. He pulled himself out of his pants, pressing the head of his swollen cock against her. She could feel him rub at her center, he was hot and hard, and the feel of him awoke an animalistic instinct within her. She bit her lip in anticipation, her fingers curling on the couch. She pushed back against him, inviting. He took it, pushing inside her without hesitation, sinking in.

Bulma pressed her face into the couch, sobbing as he entered. It was pure bliss. But before he sank in all the way he pulled out. Then shoved back in. Out, then in. Out, then in. Over and over and _over,_ repeatedly penetrating her until Bulma thought she was going to go _mad_. 

“Vegeta, _please_!” she wailed when it seemed like he’d never relent.

He bowed over her, grabbing her hip. “ _Again_ ,” he growled, his voice hoarse. 

“Ve _ge_ ~ta,” she crooned, knowing he loved to hear her say his name when they were intimate. “Vegeta, I need you. Please. I need _you,_ Vegeta.”

“Bulma, _fuck_ …” he groaned and he gave in, pushing inside her, sinking in as deep as he could. She shivered in delight, groaning as he pressed deep into her belly. She heard him choke back a cry, and it took him a moment to compose himself. It was almost uncomfortable but then he started fucking her and she was _ruined_ , unmade. He swelled and thrust inside her, making her wail and beg shamelessly for more, making her keen, fisting her fingers against the couch because she was helpless to do anything else, laying under him as he used her the way she begged to be.

His fingers tightened on her hip and he didn’t hold back, pounding into her with a desperate, frantic need, his breathing ragged. Words spilt from her mouth; his name, encouragements, mindless moans and choked sounds that were no longer intelligible but she was too far gone to care. Bulma could feel her pleasure mounting, building, bursting beyond containment. Her clit was rubbing against the couch and his cock was pressing against that spot inside her that made her want to weep and claw at his back but she couldn’t so she clawed at the couch instead, writhing under him. Suddenly he shifted, grabbing her ass with both hands, spreading her apart around his cock with his thumbs on her, and he drove into her powerfully, demanding her submission. Her pleasure. 

Bulma gave it willingly. “Vegeta!”

She coiled up, tensing and screamed into the couch as she came, wailing in agonized bliss as she felt apart while he continued to use her. He groaned, his fingers tightening painfully on her ass.

“F-fuck, yes… Bulma!” he moaned and came, emptying himself inside her. 

She whimpered as he rocked against her, eking out their pleasure. Finally he collapsed on top of her, pressing his brow to her shoulder, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He was still buried solidly inside of her.

“Bulma…” he sighed, trailing a hand up her side before hugging her tightly. She smiled, happy to be held as she came down from her climax. 

They lay together for a while, recovering and content to be close. Bulma wriggled, starting to feel squashed. Vegeta obligingly rolled off her, slipping out. She winced, worried for the poor state of the couch. She turned around so that she could face Vegeta, barely able to make him out in the dark. “That was… wow. Ten out of ten.”

Vegeta huffed a laugh and tugged her in against him. She felt the coarse fabric of his clothes against her naked skin, and it reminded her of what he was wearing. “Are you… you’re still in costume?”

“Yes?” he replied, as if that should have been obvious.

Vegeta had been dressed in his costume all this time and she couldn’t _see_ it?! “… You need to turn the lights on. And then we’re doing this again,” she told him sternly.

Vegeta chuckled. “Earth women are insatiable.” 

“ _Women_?” Bulma asked, pretending to be indignant. “Just how many have you had?”

“Enough to know you’re all I need.”

“Hmmm…” she replied, a sappy smile curling her lips, and she buried her face in the scarf about his neck.

“Admit it. That was a good line,” he gloated.

“Pfft, the only line I care about is the B-line I’m going to make to your pants in five minutes.”

“Classy.”

“Yeup.”

His fingers brushed her hair, and she sighed happily against him. Then she shivered, feeling the cool air against her naked flesh. Vegeta didn’t need to be told. He turned them over, cocooning her between his own body and the couch. He shifted, reaching for something, and a moment later she felt him pull a blanket over her that they kept on the couch for when they cuddled up and watched movies together.

Bulma smiled like a contented cat. She pressed her nose to the V of his shirt, snuggling close against his warmth. “You’re so good to me,” she hummed softly. “I love you, Vegeta.”

She heard him swallow, his body going tense. He didn’t respond. He normally grunted at least. She ran her hand over his sweaty shirt, pressing closer against him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, just… thinking.”

“About?”

Vegeta was quiet a while. Bulma didn’t expect an answer, Vegeta was often broody and unresponsive. But perhaps the dark made him feel more comfortable to bare himself so rawly, because he soon replied, “I’m trying to remember the past. But I can’t think of anything I’ve done good enough in my life that warrants me deserving you…”

Bulma felt her throat close, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She curled her fingers in his shirt, holding him close. “Vegeta?”

“What?” he asked, his voice gruff, and she could tell he was already uncomfortable about having shared so much.

“You need to go turn the power back on. Because I want to ride you while looking in your eyes this time.”

She felt his hands tighten on her. “…Can’t,” he finally choked out.

She looked up at him although she still couldn’t see in the dark. “Vegeta, are you bashful?”

“Tch, not about the eye thing,” he replied. “I meant about the power.”

“What about the power?”

“I can’t turn it back on.”

Bulma felt her stomach sink, thinking of the setup their house had with the backup generator. There were _a lot_ of wires. “… _Please_ tell me you didn’t just pull everything out of the sockets.”

“Er… I love you?”

Bulma sighed. “Oh my god… it’s a good thing I love you too. You owe me so much sex for this.”

“Hn.”

“…”

“… Didn’t you say something about a slutty outfit earlier?”

 

 

_~Fin~_

 

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

 

 ****... art by[GalacticShark17](https://twitter.com/GalacticShark17)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/GalacticShark17_RaditzWerewolf_zpsfdwjuqgv.png.html)

 

...art by [Rutbisbe](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/Rutbisbe_VegetaDrake_zpshijyujp6.jpg.html)

 

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Friends%20Fanart/Rutbisbe_BulmaAstronaut_zpsn6hezwbi.jpg.html)

 

 **AN** : Well folks, that’s pretty much it. What a ride, huh? 

 

 **Thank you so, so much** for all the lovely comments/review/emails and fanart!. You guys are _amazing_. You’ve no idea how encouraging and inspiring it is to get such lovely feedback and affirmation.

 

 **Apparently this story was nominated for, and won, Best TearJerker for _the Prince and the Heiress_ 2016 Awards. ** I'm a little bemused by that nomination, did I really make you guys cry that much? Ahahahaha sorry XD But thanks for the support!

 

Special thanks to those who made beautiful **fanart** for Friends, so far from: GalacticShark17, AlienaChan, Batcreditcard/Anne, Rutbisbe, VegetaPsycho, nelicquele79, goldenrosey101 and koii, but I would always love to see more!!

 

Some people have already asked about a **sequel**. I won’t say it’s impossible, but at this stage it’s unlikely, at least in the short term. I have other Vegebul fics I’m working on/want to start, so they’ll probably come first. BUT if inspiration strikes, I wouldn’t say no to revisiting these adorable guys and continuing their story. They’re my babies after all.

 

Don’t forget to **follow me** for updates, as I have **MORE VEGEBUL STORIES** in the works coming your way! Follow me on twitter, tumblr, FFnet and AO3. Also consider checking out ‘The Prince and The Heiress’, and ‘We’re Just Saiyan’ google communities. The former has a fanart/fic awards event coming up October 2016, so nominate your favorites in the fandom, and maybe discover some new favorite artists/writers in the process!

 

**Once again, thanks to you all for your support over these last few months. :)**

 

P.s. Someone needs to draw Vegeta cosplaying as Nathan Drake, like, RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. plz *puppy eyes* (…Also Raditz as a sexy werewolf haha.)

 **EDIT** : lol, Rutbisbe drew Vegeta-Drake and astronaut Bulma, and GalacticShark17 drew Were-Raditz, check those out ASAP, but my soul will not be assuaged, BRING ON MORE DBZ HALLOWEEN ART, MY BODY IS READY.

 

 

~

 


End file.
